Hindoo Treatment of the Sick.—Pundit's House Defiled.—Its Purification.—Short Sketch of the Different Races and of the Origin of Castes and Creeds among the Peoples of Hindostan.

The Hindoo treatment of the sick is quite peculiar, and I once had an opportunity to witness some of its curious features during the illness of my Sanskrit teacher, the pundit Govind. I was fortunate in this, since only exceptional circumstances permit a European to pollute with his presence the dwelling of a high-caste Brahman. Every one knows that caste still holds the Hindoos under an iron rule, but it is difficult for us of the Western World to realize, without actual experience, the tenacity with which its mandates are obeyed even in an extremity.

For several days Govind had not presented himself to give his usual morning lesson at the "Aviary." I feared he was ill, but did not venture to visit him, lest my very shadow might pollute his dwelling and place him in an unpleasant dilemma with the rest of his high-caste friends. I began to be alarmed, however, on the third morning of Govind's absence, and was on the point of starting off to his house, when I observed a native woman coming toward the "Aviary," her scarlet saree fluttering in the breeze and making quite a pretty picture in the distance.

I hastened to the doorstep to meet the stranger. She salÂÂmed to me, but positively declined to enter the house. As she did so she flung back her scarf or covering, and from the sectarian mark on her forehead I knew that she was a high-caste Brahmanee. She stood for a few minutes breathless and silent, and I do not remember ever having seen a more delicate and sensitive-looking girl. The saree, which was a scarlet muslin cloth of Indian manufacture, and decorated with a handsome border, covered her person from head to foot, leaving the left arm and shoulder bare. I noticed that she had sandals on her feet and a number of bangles round her arms and ankles. Her shining black hair was tied in a massive knot behind and fastened by a gold pin, which also served to secure the end of her saree as a veil and covering for her head. Her features, form, arms, hands, and feet were of the most exquisite type, and her complexion of a rich chocolate-brown.

She at length lifted her dark eyes brimming with tears, and with a slightly quivering voice said, "Beebee saihib tor douva daoh kuda ka wasta; Govind ka jahn jata hai" ("Lady, for God's sake give me a little medicine; Govind's life is passing away").

I inquired the nature of his complaint, but all I could learn from the young woman was that Govind's stomach and legs had gone away, and that his head was fast following his heels, which is the Oriental phraseology for extreme prostration.

I seized a small bottle of brandy, a physician's mixture at hand for cholera morbus, and some quinine, and started with the Brahmanee for the home of Govind the pundit. In less than half an hour we stood before a mean, wretched-looking bamboo dwelling, the walls of which were plastered with mud and covered over with an attap[27] roof. It stood in the middle of a small patch of ground neatly smeared over with cowordure. In the centre of this yard was a flourishing plant growing out of a large earthen pot buried in the ground—the Indian "mehndee"[28] (sacred to the goddess Bhawanee), called Lawsonia by English botanists. It was in full blossom, with small delicate, fragrant flowers resembling the clematis.

The sky was very much overcast, portending soon a shower or thunderstorm; the air was hot and sultry. I stood for a moment or two before the half-open door of the little hut, whence proceeded a low, faint, tremulous sound which I recognized as the voice of Govind, my teacher, enfeebled by his illness. As I stood there hesitating to enter, the pretty little Brahmanee dropped on her knees before the door, and, having saluted the presiding genius of the dwelling three times, advanced, creeping softly in on her knees. At length I summoned courage enough to walk in, but I did so in my stockings, leaving my shoes on the doorsill. Even this was, as I afterward learned, desecration to the Brahman's household.

On a low charpie, or native cot, standing apart within an enclosure formed by a mud wall a few inches in height, lay the pundit, his eyes closed, his features shrunk and wasted. The little woman, who I divined was his wife, had already taken her place at his feet, which she kept rubbing in a listless way, the sad expression deepening on her dark but beautiful face, the great tears brimming her eyes and coursing one after another all unheeded down her cheeks.

The dwelling consisted of two apartments. Through a doorway to which there was no door I saw an old woman seated by a rude fire on the floor in the adjoining room cooking some rice in an earthen pot, and before her on the floor were a board and a rolling-pin, with which she had been rolling out some wheaten cakes, piled, already baked, in a copper platter by the fire. The moment I entered the hut she turned her shrivelled features, and, seeing a white woman, she gave a shrill cry; then, stretching out her bare, bony arms, implored me in piteous tones to begone. "But, lady," said I, trying to appease her, "I cannot go away. Govind is very ill, and I have some medicine here that may cure him."

Hearing her still entreating me to begone, Bhawanee begged her to let me stay and give the medicine to Govind; at which the poor old woman, shuddering, retreated to the inner apartment, resumed for a time her cries, uttering them in a loud voice and in a tone at once piercing and imperious, "You dare not come in here! you dare not! What reason have you for daring to give my son medicine? I want you hateful Injrage (English) to know that I would rather have him die, rather have him die, than be polluted by your vile drinks, made of devils' blood and pig's flesh; I would rather have him die." Rocking herself to and fro, she kept her strange glittering, dark eyes fixed upon me, and repeated, lowering her voice more and more gradually, "I would rather have him die," till she seemed to be talking to herself. I really thought she was delirious or perhaps out of her mind; but Bhawanee whispered to me, "She is very old and very cross, and sometimes possessed of a devil."

All the noise made by the old woman did not seem to disturb her son, who was in a deep sleep, his respiration so heavy and labored, and his pallor so death-like, that I almost feared he was dying. But at the end of half an hour he stirred and made a vain attempt to turn on his side; failing, he gave a look toward the foot of the bed, where his sorrow-stricken wife sat still and mute. Meeting his gaze, she crept to the head of the bed, and, taking his hand tenderly in hers, sobbed out in broken accents, "Govind duva piuh, tora duva piuh" ("Govind, drink some medicine—just a little of the medicine").

The pundit opened wide his half-closed eyes, looked full and inquiringly into his wife's face, and then turned them upon me. If I had been the very lowest wretch on the face of the earth, he could not have been more startled and horrified than he seemed at my presence. He almost sprang up, but in another second fell back on the bed, and, putting his hands before his face, cried feebly to his wife, "Wife, wife, what have you done?"

There was deep sympathy in the voice of the poor young woman as she exclaimed, "Oh, Govind, I thought you were dying. I did not know what else to do, and Doorah has been gone since morning, and is not yet returned. Oh, please take the lady's medicine. Never mind about caste; we can do 'puja' for it, and be restored;" and the poor woman began to sob as if her heart would break.

"What are my sufferings and death, that you should create so much disturbance about them?" feebly moaned Govind. "Let me die, oh, let me die quietly!" and again the deadly pallor overspread his face.

"Govind," said I in a very energetic tone, "drink this." I had already poured out a little brandy into an earthen lota or cup, which his wife handed me, and giving it back to her said, "Put it to his lips; he will be better as soon as he has swallowed a little of it."

Poor Bhawanee, nervous and trembling from head to foot, tried, and tried in vain, to persuade her husband to take even a mouthful of the medicine. Each time that she presented the lota to his lips he would put it aside, and turn away his face, muttering, "Better to die than pollute myself with what I am forbidden to touch."

The old woman, who had never taken her eyes off me, hearing his voice, began to moan, "Oh, beloved son, die, die, but do not touch their unholy drinks."

I did not know what to do, but, inspired by poor Bhawanee's entreating look, which, though she said not a word, plainly urged me to persevere, I once more endeavored to get the patient to swallow a little of the brandy. "Govind," said I, "do get over your scruples, which are well enough in health, but absurd in your fast-failing condition. Drink a mouthful of this; it will help to revive you until your doctor comes. No one need ever know that you have tasted brandy; I promise you to keep it a profound secret."

"Do, oh do!" urged his wife—"eke gutta piuh—take only one gulp."

"Much or little, a drop or a whole bottle, are all the same to me," groaned the poor pundit. "You may not speak of it, lady, and no one, no one may know it, but how can I conceal the fact from myself?"

I felt it was useless to persuade the patient to try the remedies I had brought with me.

At this moment we not only heard the sound of approaching feet, but a sudden clap of thunder, preceded by a flash of lightning, almost blinded us as we sat in the hut, and down came a deluging rain. Bhawanee rose, and in a state of great agitation begged me to retire by the back door; but, casting her eyes on my stocking feet, and apprehending that my European shoes on the threshold of her dwelling had already betrayed my presence to her friends, she begged me to keep my place, when in walked, all dripping, three strange-looking men, accompanied by Doorah, her sister, who had been despatched in the early morning in search of a doctor, a priest, and a soothsayer.

Bhawanee rose and bowed before them, and so did the old woman from her place in the inner room. It was comforting to see the poor woman's expression, which till now had been full of despair, replaced by a look of child-like confidence and trust, though I doubted whether the Hindoo priest, doctor, or soothsayer could do much toward helping the sick man.

The doctor, who was a tall, dark, and rather handsome high-caste Hindoo, placed himself near the bedside of Govind and proceeded to feel his skin, pulse, and chest and to examine the condition of his tongue, eyes, and nails.

Meanwhile, the Brahman priest requested a pitcher of water and an empty bowl. Furnished with these by Doorah, Bhawanee's sister, he sat himself down in the middle of the room and began to transfer the water from the jar into the empty bowl, drop by drop, repeating over each drop the "Gayatree," the holiest text of the VÈdas, the most sacred and effacious prayer of the Brahmans, and thought by them to be absolutely necessary to salvation, while the soothsayer sat apart waiting his turn to perform certain magical enchantments for the benefit of the poor sick man. The latter opened his eyes once more and looked at his Guru,[29] or priest, and said solemnly, "I am dying."

"Dying? you are not dying," said the doctor. "I will soon make you well," whereupon he opened a bag and drew out of it some pieces of iron, which he placed on a charcoal fire. While these were being heated he took out various roots and dried herbs and began to rub them on a small stone, occasionally moistening the stone with a little water. Having compounded several queer, dark-looking doses, he, to my utter astonishment, deliberately began pinching, thumping, and slapping poor Govind—now on his back, anon on the soles of his feet. His sides, palms, shoulders, elbows, knee-joints were all slapped and beaten. This done, he branded with the hot pieces of iron the poor patient on the pit of his stomach, the inside of his arms, and the calves of his legs; then administered his queer-looking doses, which the unhappy-looking Govind swallowed without a sign of remonstrance; and, finally covering him from head to foot with a thick quilt, the Hindoo physician beckoned to the soothsayer to complete the cure.

The soothsayer robed himself in a dress covered with strange designs of men exorcising fiends, put on a cap to which was attached two or three long cords, at the end of which hung little brooms made of kusah-grass (a grass sacred to the Hindoo gods). He then took up the pan of burning coals and scattered them over the quilt which covered the patient; these he brushed off as rapidly as possible with the sacred brooms hanging from his cap. This was to dispossess the sick man of some extraordinary but invisible devil, which he then drove out at the door, running after the spirit and howling terrific invectives on it for having dared to enter the "divine precincts occupied by the liver of a Brahman." All this while the Guru, or priest, prayed, chanting in a monotonous tone, over each drop of water that passed from the pitcher to the bowl, and each of which was supposed to carry off with it the cholera of the sick man.

Strange to say, violent and absurd as were the remedies administered to poor Govind, he not only bore them patiently, but seemed better; a profuse perspiration having broken out upon him, it was looked upon as a most hopeful sign and an especial interposition of Brahm.

In another hour the rain ceased; Govind had fallen into a peaceful sleep; Bhawanee's face was irradiated with smiles; the old woman was setting out their mid-day repast on a mat in the adjoining apartment. I returned home, promising to call and see Bhawanee on the following day. The next day, when I started off, I fully expected to hear that Govind had passed away; but when I reached the outer gate of the yard enclosing Govind's dwelling I found the pundit, although looking weak and feeble enough, seated on a small stone holding in his left hand three blades of kusah-grass. The old woman, who was in the act of tying up the lock of sacred hair on his head in some mystical form, shouted to me to keep off. I stood at a distance and looked on. He was evidently undergoing the purification ceremony. Bhawanee, who smiled sweetly at me, was holding before her husband a bowl of water, which he first sipped, then flung a little of it toward the horizon, and washed his hands, ears, breast, eyes, nose, shoulders, and feet, repeating over each member a prayer. His wife then brought him a stick of lighted wood from the household fire; he breathed over it, repeating the mystic word "Aum," "O divine Spirit, resplendent Fire, purify me from all uncleanliness." He then placed the sacred grass on his right ear (Gunga, the sacred river, is supposed to have its source in the right ear of Brahm, the sacrificial fire (or life) in Brahm's nostrils, so that when the pundit touched these members of his person with fire and water all the impurity entailed by my visit to his house on the previous day passed away). Finally he took some sacred mud out of a pot which was handed to him by his wife, and made the holy mark, the circle and the cross of his caste and race, on his brow.

Meanwhile, Doorah, the sister, had been purifying the hut. First it was sprinkled all over with holy water, smeared with cow-ordure, and lastly fumigated with certain gums—a very sensible proceeding in a hot, moist climate like that of Bombay.

And at length the poor pundit, restored to his normal condition of holiness, was once more assisted into his bed by his tender and loving wife. I smiled at them from a distance, and went my way regretting more keenly than ever we were so separated from one another that the simplest act of kind interest on my part should entail on the whole household a series of purificatory rites to last for seven days.

As long as there exist in social life certain laws, manners, and customs by which the civilized man is distinguished from the savage, the gentleman from the cowherd, the high-born dame from her lowly maid, so long will caste, which is nothing more or less than social grades, complicate the lives and destinies not only of the races of the East, but of the West. The three great problems which yet remain to be solved by the British in India are to do away with the degradation of man by caste, the bondage of woman by custom, and the deterioration of childhood through the influence of the one and the other.

Caste on Indian soil was not in its beginning an entirely arbitrary institution; it was at first the natural expression of a high-bred and highly-sensitive race toward an inferior and savage population among which they had settled. It took centuries before caste was established on Indian soil, and nearly a thousand years before it became incorporated in the sacred books of the Brahmans in its present form. But the moment that divine authority was claimed for it, that moment it became to the God-fearing races of the East a law so subtle, so intricate, and yet so absolute, that the most daring as well as the most abject could not hope to escape its iron rule.

From the remotest times there has been a ceaseless march of tribes and races into the vast peninsula called Hindostan, from which there is no easy outlet, east or west, north or south; all points are equally difficult and impassable—mountain-barriers on the north, with ranges of mountains and circling seas on every other side. Nevertheless, pouring across the Indus and straggling down the narrow defiles and passes of the Himalayas, came wave after wave of immigration, pushing the earlier populations farther and farther into the hills and forest-boundaries of the occupied land. Each wave, borne down by the later arrival, disappeared or retreated deeper and deeper into the heart of the country till the whole of India was over-flooded by the great Aryan invasion.

In no part of the world are there found so many remains of distinct tribes and races of men as in Hindostan proper. Everywhere in the forests, in the most inaccessible mountain-regions of the peninsula, and all along the sea-coast, are tribes and races who seem to have been hemmed in where we now find them. The vast plains of the regions of the Indus and the Ganges afforded no place of refuge to the retreating barbarians. Hence, with the exception of some few who were absorbed into the population of Lower Bengal, the Aryans drove all before them, even the Tamuls, a partly-civilized people, who, having swept the earlier inhabitants southward, were in their turn forced south.

From the latitude of the Vindhyan chain down to Cape Comorin, and in the forests of Ceylon, the aboriginal populations of India are still to be met with, living in detached communities, distinct in physical appearance, manners, customs, and religions, not only from the Hindoos, Tamuls, Moslems, and Parsees, but from one another.

Nothing annoyed our pundit so much as when he heard me call my bhistee, or water-man, "a Hindoo:" "Hindoo nay, maim sahib, whoo jungly-wallah hai" ("Not Hindoo-man, but a savage of the forest"). And, to tell the truth, one could not fail to notice between the Hindoo pundit and the coolie-bhistee as marked a difference as one sees between a high-bred American gentleman of the Anglo-Saxon race and the newly-emancipated American negro.

In crossing the Indus one comes upon the relics of ancient races in the dark-complexioned, diminutive, but powerfully athletic natives of Guzerat, many of whom are now the coolies or porters of Bombay. Again, scattered over the Vindhyan and Satpurah mountains and the banks of the Nerbudda and Tapti are other tribes of a very peculiar race called Bheels or Bhils, probably from the Sanskrit word "bhil," which signifies "separate" or "outcasts." The legends of these tribes, one and all, trace their origin to the union of the god MahadÈo with a beautiful woman met by him in a forest. From this union sprang a sort of giant distinguished by his ugliness and vice, who, after having perpetrated a series of horrible crimes, killed the sacred Brahmanic bull of the god, and was banished to the wilderness of Jodhpoor. The history of the Rajpoot princes of Jodhpoor and Odhpoor corroborates this account of the Bhil emigration. The Bhats,[30] or minstrels, of the Bhils still reside in Rajpootana, and make yearly visits to the countries of the various Bhil tribes to celebrate festal seasons with music and song. The celebrated NÁdir Singh, a Bhilahah (that is, one sprung from the marriage of a Rajpoot with a Bhil woman), was one of the most formidable freebooters of his time until the establishment of an English settlement at Mhau,[31] when he was compelled to discharge his foreign adherents and renounce plundering.[32]

The Bhils are short in stature, thick-set, almost black, with wiry hair and beard, but extraordinarily active and capable of enduring great fatigue, delighting in flesh of all kinds and intoxicating drinks, with which no Brahman will ever pollute his sacred lips. The chiefs of the Bhils are called Bhomiyahs, and are generally of the Bhilalah or mixed race. They exercise the most absolute power over their subjects; each chief is styled a "dhani," or lord, and the most atrocious crimes are often committed at his bidding. In order to limit this absolute power, however, there are certain religious officers called "tarwis," or heads of tribes, whose counsel must be attended to by the chiefs. The worship of the Bhils is paid to MahadÈo, the high god, and DÈvi his consort, the goddess of small-pox. A great number of infernal deities are also propitiated by yearly offerings and pilgrimages to their respective shrines.

While the Bhil men are brutal, cruel, and drunken, it is a remarkable fact that the Bhil women are chaste, gentle, and almost always very good-looking.[33]

Driven southward by the conquering Rajpoots, numbers of the Bhils adopted the savage life of freebooters and robbers, which they still retain, and the more wealthy settled in Guzerat and Candeish, where most richly-ornamented temples and rock-shrines are to be found to-day, and such as remained with the Rajpoots became hardy cultivators of the soil or the bravest of watchmen when employed as guards.

In character they are sensitive on points of honor among themselves, but desperate foes, revenging themselves, sometimes years after, for any grievance perpetrated against one of their tribe. I remember an incident related to me by my mother which is characteristic of the Bhil freebooters and robbers. My stepfather was appointed to survey the public road newly opened from Cambay to the confines of the great and then almost unknown province of Guzerat. She had decided to accompany him on his long and hazardous journey. Having acquired a fair knowledge of the Guzerati language, she proved, as he had hoped, an invaluable aid in settling disputes about payments of money for work done, and in directing and instructing such of the Bhils, Khands, and other tribes as were employed on the roads. Furnished with a sepoy guard and a large amount of government money to defray the expenses of the road repairs, they travelled for some time unmolested through the strange country. On one occasion, however, they had pitched their tents in the village of Balmere, and had retired for the night. My stepfather, fatigued with a hard day's ride over the roads, slept soundly. The guards patrolled the little encampment, which consisted of three tents, two for the servants and sepoys on duty, and the other, a double-poled tent, consisting of two rooms with a double wall of canvas around it, for the family. The tumbril which conveyed the government money from place to place stood in the corner of the room, near the cot on which my mother slept. My stepfather occupied the adjoining room. A small lamp stood burning on the tumbril, and the key had been carelessly left in the treasure-box.

About midnight my mother was suddenly aroused by a slight shuffling noise. She raised her head, and, looking toward the spot whence the sound proceeded, was horrified at seeing the shadows of the nude figures of several men passing between the outer and inner walls of the tent. Presently a gang of Bhil robbers opened the tent-door and stood before her, confronting her, armed with bows and poisoned arrows. There were six men in all, with nothing on their persons but langoutis[34] of straw round their loins, and their bodies highly greased, so as to slip away from the grasp of any person who attempted to seize and hold them.

Divining that their object was to rob the tumbril, the brave lady, without uttering a single cry, sprang to her feet, standing erect and seemingly fearless, and gazed defiantly at them. For a moment or two the foremost robbers seemed to hesitate. Then the one of the gang nearest her addressed her in Guzerati, and said, "Woman, we do not desire to hurt you; we only mean to possess ourselves of what we need, the money in that cart there;" saying which, he attempted to advance toward the tumbril. To scream for help would imperil her own and her husband's life, for these freebooters would at once use their poisoned arrows; but to permit them quietly to rob the government treasury would be almost as fatal, entailing on them endless delay, trouble, and perhaps even unjust suspicion at head-quarters. The intrepid wife suddenly remembered that the Bhils had a superstitious reverence for the person of woman, and before they had time to reach the tumbril she flung herself on her face and hands across their path, and said solemnly in Guzerati, "Only by stepping over a woman's body can you obtain possession of what is entrusted to the care of her husband." There she lay, not daring to utter another word, trembling from head to foot, and anticipating momentary death from their cruel arrows.

Minute after minute passed away, but she still did not dare to open her eyes or even turn her head toward them. After lying there for nearly half an hour, which seemed almost an eternity of agonizing suspense, and unable to endure it any longer, she ventured timidly to glance in the direction of the robbers, and, lo! their places were empty; the tent-door was closed. The Bhil freebooters, hearing this strange being address them in their own language, hurling at them one of their most formidable threats, had vanished as softly as they had entered the tent, vanquished by the presence of mind shown by a delicate woman.

On another occasion the military chaplain at Desa, a British station in Guzerat, was on his way to seek change of air at Mount Aboo. At dusk one evening he found himself surrounded by a gang of Bhil robbers; his travelling-wagon was stopped, his driver took to his heels and fled; his servants too had gone on ahead. Not knowing what to do, he addressed them in Guzerati, and said, "I am not a rich man; I am a poor servant of God, a Christian priest in search of health." Immediately the chief of the gang gave orders that he should not be hurt. They stripped him, however, and divided among themselves whatever they could find. Two of the gang, presenting their short daggers to the poor clergyman, made him march before them in his shirt for some distance. Every time that he turned to remonstrate with the robbers they pricked him slightly with their pointed daggers, till at length he resolved to take no further notice of them. On and on he went. A great darkness had overtaken him; almost fainting from fatigue, he sank to the ground unable to take another step, when, to his surprise, he found that the robbers had departed, leaving him to pursue his way through a wild jungle. He spent an anxious night in the forest, retraced his steps to the village, and by complaining to the headman was at once furnished with a guard and every facility to pursue his journey, the law here being that if robbery or murder is perpetrated in the vicinity of a village, the headman is obliged to make ample restitution; and he has the power to levy a fine on the community to indemnify himself for all the expenses that such acts entail on him as patÈl, or governor, of the village. The reverend clergyman always maintained that his escape from death on this occasion was owing to the fact of his being able to address the robbers in their own tongue.

South of the Nerbudda, and in the very heart of the Vindhyan chain, are the Gonds,[35] so called from their habitual nudity—a race of the lowest type, jet-black skin, stunted, thick-lipped, and with small, deep-set eyes. This race is often called by the Hindoos Angorees—i. e. cannibals. They live in miserable huts, surrounded by swine, poultry, buffaloes, and dogs, without any industries, literature, or priesthood, and with few ceremonials of any kind whatever—worshippers of serpents, demons, or anything, in fact, that inspires them with dread, to whom they sometimes sacrifice their children or captives taken in war. Such religious rites as prevail among them are conducted by the aged and honored members of their tribe, both male and female.

Verging on the Gondwana[36] are the hilly provinces of Orissa, inhabited by the Khands, no doubt a tribe slightly in advance in physical type and civilization of their neighbors, the Gonds, the Thugs, and Sourahs. They regard the earth-spirit as in rebellion against the Supreme Deity. To the earth-spirit they direct their prayers, and seek to propitiate her by human sacrifices. Their victims are called "Meriah"[37] by the Oriyahs, and Kudatee by the Khands. These victims must not belong to their tribes nor to the Brahman caste. They are purchased, or more generally kidnapped, from the surrounding districts by persons called Panwhas, who are attached to their villages for these and other peculiar offices. They may be either male or female, and as consecrated persons are treated with great kindness. To the "Meriah" youth or maiden a portion of land is assigned, with farming stock. He or she is also permitted to marry and bear children, who in turn become victims. If a "Meriah" youth form an attachment to the daughter or even wife of a Khand, the relatives indulge him in his wishes, regarding it as an especial favor. These sacrifices take place annually, when the sun is in his highest point in the heavens. The victim is selected by casting of lots. The ceremony lasts three days, and is always attended by a large concourse of people of both sexes. The first day of the approaching sacrifice is spent in feasting, merriment, and prayers, which go hand in hand with wild revelry of all kinds. On the second morning the victim who is to propitiate the earth-goddess is washed, attired in a flowing white robe, and conducted, with music, beating of drums, blowing of horns and rude reed instruments, to the sacred groves preserved for these rites. Here the assembled community implore the earth-goddess Tari (called Pennu by the Shanars and Davee by the Rajpoots, who have in great measure been tainted by their contact with these hill-tribes) to accept the sacrifice about to be offered, and to bless their land with increase of corn, wine, cattle, and so forth. After the offering up of prayer the victim, whether male or female, stands up before the assembly, draws forth his glittering knife, and passes his hand three times over its sharp edge. He then deliberately steps up to the rude altar of Tari, lays down his knife upon it, and, bowing his head, worships the insatiable earth-goddess; then snatching up the knife, he cries, "Drink of my blood and be appeased, O Tari," etc., etc. He waves it aloft three times and plunges it into his side. Leaning toward the earth, which he desires to propitiate in behalf of his fellow-men, he slowly draws out the knife, pours his life-blood out upon her parched and thirsty soil, and expires at the foot of the dreaded altar raised to her name. Honored as no other creature in the land, reared for death, the "Meriah," or doomed one, exults in the performance of this self-sacrifice with a consciousness of being a savior of the country, and has never been known to evade or escape the doom in store for him.

After this horrible sacrifice the human victim is cut into small pieces, and each head of a Khand or Gond family obtains a shred or infinitesimal portion of the body, which he buries in his field to please the spirit of the earth. This is believed to aid not a little in rendering the soil rich and fertile.

The Thugs, or "stranglers," are not unlike the Gonds in physical appearance and natural characteristics. They live by robbery and murder, and are banded together by certain vows which they religiously follow. One sect of Thugs are called Phansigars, or "throttlers." It is their practice to strangle wayfarers, whence their name, and appropriate such spoils as may fall to their lot in these onslaughts. Efforts have been made, through the British government, to put a stop to both these religious atrocities of the Meriah and the Thugs, and in some parts of the country with great success.

The Jadejas are a branch of the great Samma tribe once so powerful in Sindh; they assumed this title from a celebrated chief named Jada. Their arrival in Guzerat dates from 800 A. D. The remarkable characteristic of this tribe is their systematic murder of all their female children. Another branch of the Jadejas settled in Kach, or Cutch. These differ materially from their brethren in Guzerat. They are half Musulmans and half Hindoos, believe in the Kuran, worship Mohammedan saints, swear by Allah, eat, drink, and smoke with the followers of the Prophet. But, on the other hand, they do not undergo circumcision, and adore all kinds of images of wood and stone. In appearance they are fine, tall men, light-complexioned, handsome-featured, and have singularly long whiskers, which are often allowed to come down to the breast. They owe their good looks to their mothers, who are either bought or kidnapped from other tribes; no females of their own are ever reared.

The Kalhis (another curious tribe) are evidently a northern race; they are tall, well-formed, with regular features, aquiline nose, blue or gray eyes, and soft dark-brown hair. The sun is their chief deity. On the Mandevan Hills, near Thau, is a temple to the sun, said to have been erected by the Kalhis on their first arrival in Guzerat. In this temple there is a huge image of the Sun-god with a halo round its head. The symbol of the sun with the words, "Sri suryagni shakh" ("the witness of the holy sun") is affixed to all official documents and deeds of property.

A number of tribes may be found in the district of Bilaspoor, which forms the upper half of the basin of the river Maha-Nadi—the Gonds, already mentioned, the Kanwars, Bhumias, Bingwars, and Dhanwars—all differing among themselves in physical characteristics, customs, manners, and certain religious observances. Among the Hindoos here are two tribes which deserve particular mention—the Chamars, or Chamar-wallahs, and the Pankhas. The former take their name from their dealing in "chamar," or "leather." They are the shoemaker and leather-trading castes of the Hindoo communities, and have always been held in great contempt by the high-class Brahmans and Hindoos. About sixty years ago a religious movement was inaugurated by one of the Chamars named Ghasi-Dhas. He represented himself as a messenger from God sent to teach men the unity of God and the equality of men. He was the means of liberating his tribe from the trammels of caste; he prohibited the worship of idols or images, and enjoined that prayers should be offered up to the Supreme Being, whose spirit should be ever present to their minds without any visible sign or representation. The followers of the new faith call themselves "Satmanes" or the "worshippers of Satyan, the truth." Ghasi-Dhas was their first high priest; he died 1850. His son succeeded him, but was assassinated by some Hindoo fanatic, but his grandson is the present high priest of the Chamars.

The "Pankhas," or weavers, are also deists of a very high order; they are the followers of a religious reformer named Kahbir, who flourished about the fifteenth century. There is very little difference between the Kahbir-Pankhas and the Satmanes-Chamars in their worship and religion. The province of Sindh derives its name from the Sanskrit word "Sindhu," "ocean or flood," which name the Aryans of the VÈdic period who were settled about the sixth century B. C. in the Panjaub and along the Indus gave to that river. In the third "Ashtaka" and the sixth "AdhyÁya" there appears to be a distinct mention of the Indus River in the twelfth verse, which runs as follows: "Thou hast spread abroad upon the earth by thy power the swollen Sindhu when arrested (on its course)."[38] The Indus is still called Sindhu throughout its course from KalabÁgh to AtÂk; it is sometimes locally termed AtÂk. From KalabÁgh to BÂhkhar is the upper Indus, and from BÂhkhar to the sea the lower Indus. It begins to rise in March and falls in September, but, unlike the Ganges and the Mississippi, it does not submerge its delta or inundate the valley through which it passes to any great extent. Its floods are irregular and partial, pouring sometimes for years on the right bank, and then on the left, so that even at the height of the freshets the Persian wheel may be seen at work watering the fields on either bank.

The principal tribes of Sindh are the Beluchis and the JÂts, or Sindhis, once Hindoos, but converted to Islam under the Khalifs[39] of the house Ommayyah. The Sindhis are taller, stronger, more robust, and muscular than the natives of India; they belong chiefly to the Hanifah sect of Mohammedans. Their language is a strange mixture of Arabic and Sanskrit words, the noun being borrowed from the Sanskrit, and the verb from the Persian or Arabic grammar. The Beluchis are a mountain-tribe; they are superior to the JÂts or Sindhs, fairer, more powerfully formed, very hardy, not deficient in courage under brave leaders, and extremely temperate. The Beluchi women are remarkably faithful and devoted as wives, and those of the Mari tribe often follow their husbands to battle.

One of the peculiarities of the Hindoos of Sindh is that they have no outcast tribes among them, like the Parwaris, or Pariahs, Pasis, and Khandalas of Hindostan; and many of the Musulmans of Sindh are followers of Nanak[40] and Govind his disciple.

Farther north, in the Afghan districts, numerous warlike tribes are found. Afghans, properly so called, distinguish themselves from the aboriginal populations. The chief clans or tribes of the Afghans are the Duranis, south-west of the Afghan plateau; the Ghilzais, the strongest and most warlike of the Afghans, occupying the highlands north of Kandhar (this tribe is noted for its deep-rooted hostility to foreigners, and especially to the British); the Yusufzais, north of Peshwar; and the Khakars, who are chiefly the highlanders of this region. Of the non-Afghan tribes very little is known; those that have come under the notice of the British officers are no doubt mostly a mixed race, descendants of the Aryans and Turanians. The purest of these are the Parsivans, the Kizibashes, the Hindikis, and the JÂts, all more or less closely allied to the Persians and Hindoos in language, manners, and customs. The EimÂk, the Hazaras, Tajiks, and the Khohistans are semi-nomadic tribes—Mohammedans; some are of the Shiah[41] and others of the Sunni sect.

As a race, the Afghans are a very handsome, athletic people, with fair complexion, aquiline nose, and flowing black, brown, and sometimes even red, hair, which the men wear long, falling in soft curls over the shoulders. The women are beautiful, and often of fair rosy complexion, dark eyes and hair, which they wear under a skull-cap, with two long braids falling to the waist behind, finished off with silk tassels. Since the Mohammedan conquest the custom of excluding women from the society of the male members of the family has been introduced into Afghanistan, and is now rigidly enforced.

In the very apex of India, the hilly districts of Southern Madras, are numerous early races and tribes, distinct and peculiar to themselves, of whom the Tudas and Cholas are most worthy of notice. The former is as superior in type to the latter as the Caucasian is to the Mongolian. The Tudas are chiefly found in the Nilgherry Hills; they are tall, athletic, and well-formed. Their women, though dark, are singularly pleasing when young. The comparatively treeless character of these hills indicates that in former times large spaces were cleared and cultivated, though at present the Tudas seem to prefer roaming about the hills and leading a nomadic life.

In the Dhendigal and neighboring Wynadd Hills appear other tribes, apparently the oldest of all the primitive races of India, and of the lowest type of humanity. They are called Shanars, and are clothed, if at all, with the bark of trees, using bows and arrows, and subsisting chiefly on roots, wild honey, and reptiles. Short in stature and agile as monkeys, living without habitations among trees, they penetrate the jungle with marvellous speed, and seem only a step removed from the orang-outang of Borneo and Sumatra. There is no doubt that these wild people, if not indigenous to the soil, occupied at one time a large portion of this country, and are the remains of that "monkey race" whom the first Aryan invaders met with, and who, with their leader Hanuman, figure so largely in the old poems as the allies of Rama in his conquest of Ceylon.

Among these numerous but isolated relics of aboriginal populations there is another and superior race, divided into several distinct nationalities, such as the Tamuls, Telingus, and Canarese, who people the greater part of Southern India. Nevertheless, between them and those still later Aryans the difference, both mental and physical, is plainly seen.

There are still current in Southern India a number of languages and dialects, which, though largely intermixed with Sanskrit terms in consequence of Aryan conquest and civilization, belong to distinct families of languages. The most comprehensive of these are the Tamul, Telingu, and Carnatic, showing the existence of separate nations at the time of the Aryan conquest. The Tamul language has no inconsiderable literature of its own.

The Mahrattas, whose chief seat is in the Deccan, belong to still another race, although there is now among them a larger infusion of Aryan blood than is to be found farther south in India.

In the van of Aryan immigration settling along the plains of the Ganges from Hurdwar down to the eastern frontier of Oude and the Raj-Mahal Hills were the Brahmans, founders of the great cities Hastinapoora ("abode of elephants"), Indraspatha, Delhi, Canouge on the Doab, Ayodhya (Oude), Benares, and Palibothra (Patna). They concentrated themselves in the upper part of the Ganges valley, but did not attempt to pass into Lower Bengal, as may be seen to-day by the physical and mental inferiority of the Bengalees to the populations of Northern Hindostan.

All travellers and historians agree in stating that the early Aryan settlers in the valley of the Ganges closely resembled the Hellenic race in Greece in almost every feature of their military, domestic, and social life. They were split up into a number of small states or communities. The Kshatryas, though originating in their military profession, and not in a single family, were not unlike the HeraclidÆ, who became the royal race of the Peloponnesus. But in process of time these Kshatryas were absorbed into the Rajpoots, who are supposed to have arrived in India about the time of Alexander's invasion of the Panjaub. They settled where we find them to-day, in the neighborhood of Rohilcund and Bundelcund, and shortly after them came the JÂts, another branch of the Indo-European or Aryan family, thus completing the four great waves of the so-named Pandya, or white-faced, immigration—the Brahmans, Kshatryas, the Rajpoots, and the JÂts. It was the Brahmans who founded the celebrated Pandhya kingdom, so called from their white skins, and established the "Meerassee" system—i. e. an aristocracy of equality among the four conquering races. They shared the land equally among themselves, and regarded all others as servants or subjects.

In this primitive village-system the Brahman, or priest and poet, the Pundit, or schoolmaster, the Vakeel, or pleader, were as essential as food and drink to the community. Priest, teacher, and pleader by virtue of their high functions enjoyed peculiar and unquestioned privileges: land free of all tax was religiously assigned to them, and servants to cultivate it for their use were attached to the grant.

In each and every Hindoo village or town which has retained its old form the children even to-day are able to read, write, and cipher. But wherever the village-system has been swept away by foreign and other influences there the village school has also disappeared with it. A trial by jury, called "punchayet," was also a part of the primitive system of self-government instituted by the early Brahmans: each party named two or more arbitrators, and the judge one; the jury could not in any case be composed of less than five persons, whence the name "punchayet"—five just ones. In difficult cases the influence of the heads and elders of the village was brought to bear upon the contending parties, and the administration of justice was so pure in those days that the saying "In the punchayet is God" became proverbial.

Out of these marked mental and physical differences grew up the monstrous and extraordinary system of caste in India. Not that caste does not exist in some degree everywhere throughout the world. In the British Isles it is as fixed and absolute as a Medo-Persic law, and even among Americans a marked social inequality exists. Caste naturally sprang up with the first mingling of the conquering and conquered races on Indian soil. At first the distinctions of class and rank were no more marked than that of an English peasant and the lord of a domain, or that of the negro girl and her mistress in the United States to-day. But the proud, white-skinned Brahmans, in order to guard the purity of their own "blue blood," and to rivet their own ascendency, invented at length a distinct and most binding code of laws, and then claimed for them the divine authority of the VÈdas.

Of the four great castes that we read so much about, three only were fixed—Brahmans, Kshatryas, and the Vaisyas. This last was the common Aryan people, and they were not separated from their superiors by any harsh distinctions. But the Sudras, "the threefold black men," among whom the Aryan population established themselves, all the non-Aryan races and tribes of the peninsula of Hindostan, were kept off by a wide gulf and the most galling marks of inferiority. The Sudra could not read the VÈdas nor join in their religious meetings. He could not cook their food, or even serve in their houses; he was unclean, gross, sensual, irreligious, and therefore an abomination to the noble white-faced Aryan.

The code of Manu, with all its "unparalleled arrogance" toward the Sudra, was founded rather upon what a high-bred Brahman ought to be than with any deliberate intent to degrade the Sudra. But with its practice came that inevitable deterioration to the moral character of the Brahmans themselves, who forgot that the humblest man has a right to the same sanctity of life and character as the highest. The lower the Brahman sank in his spiritual and moral nature, the more he tried to hedge himself about with artificial claims to the reverence of the peoples around him, until finally the code of Manu swelled into minute details. Reaching the unborn child of Aryan parents, it directed its nursing in the cradle, it shaped the training of the youth, and regulated the actions of his perfect manhood as son, husband, and father. Food, raiment, exercise, religious and social duties, must be brought into subjection to its sovereign voice, and in the course of time it was inseparably interwoven with every domestic usage, every personal and social habit. From the cradle to the grave it undertakes to regulate and control every desire, every inclination, every movement, of the inner and outer man. Such is the code of Manu.

In spite of these laws, however, there flourished Sudra kings and Sudra communities, influenced though not absorbed by the Aryan population. Sudra kings were invited to the court of the great Yudishthira[42] and treated with marked respect and courtesy; indeed, this word "Kiriya" or "Kritya" (courtesy) was held to be the distinguishing mark of a high-bred Brahman. The Sudras in their turn soon caught the infection of caste feeling, and were not slow in adopting the same distinctions among themselves.

From being at first a sign of superiority of race, it gradually took form and extended to every branch and profession. Priest, teacher, soldier, sailor, tinker, tailor, robber, murderer, and beggar, was each one fixed immovably and for ever in his place and grade, and no earthly power could draw him into any other. Every one piqued himself on his particular caste; each man confined himself sternly to his own perfect circle. There was hope for every man who belonged to a caste, so that even those fallen from caste bound themselves together in a brotherhood and called themselves Pariahs, "outcasts," which in time became a large and distinct caste. "Even in the lowest depths they found a lower still."

So monstrous and deteriorating was this system that in the course of time, losing sight of its original purpose, it separated the Aryans themselves, for whose especial preservation and union it was designed, by distinctions and restrictions almost as galling as those it had formerly imposed only on the Sudras.

Nevertheless, it had its noble features, and did good work for a time. The high advancement to which the Indo-European art, literature, painting, music, and architecture attained was due to the leadership of the Brahman civilization. It was an aristocracy to rule and educate the masses, which everywhere exhibited a uniform inferiority. But even with all the help of caste and the inflexible code of Manu to preserve them on every side, the proud white-faced Aryans did not long escape the deteriorating influences both of the climate in which they had settled and the debasing usages of the non-Aryan populations around them.

The most degrading practice that sprang up in time on Indian soil was asceticism. The amount and the terrible nature of this self-imposed penance practised by the Hindoos exceed anything known in the world, and are almost inconceivable to any ordinary European, whose first instinct is self-preservation. Ablutions and commands of personal cleanliness, which formed a part of the code of Manu, have increased in number, and also the penalties attached to their violation to such a degree that now-a-days a Brahman or Hindoo is defiled by the most trifling accident of place or touch. To eat with the left hand, to sneeze when he is praying, to gape in the presence of the sacrificial fire, to touch one of a low caste, are all pollutions. In fact, the very shadow of an Englishman or a Sudra falling on his cooking-pot renders it obligatory on him to bury his meal in the earth and to throw away his pot if earthen; if not, it must undergo seven purifications before it is in a sufficiently holy condition to boil the rice sacred to the Brahman. The simple contact with pig's fat in the cartridges made the sepoys, who believed they were thus lost to caste and to heaven, willing and terrible tools in the hands of the arch-enemy of British power in the East. Nana Sahib, or, more properly speaking, Dundoo Punt, who, in order to revenge a private wrong—the lapse to the East Indian Company, on the death of his uncle and royal father by adoption, of a large territory bequeathed to him—worked upon the caste-prejudices of the sepoys until he maddened them into committing the most fiendish acts ever recorded in Indian history. But the original code does not so regard the eating of pork. If a Brahman purposely eat pork he shall be degraded, but if he has partaken of it involuntarily or through another's connivance, a penance and purification are sufficient for full atonement.

Thus, injunctions originally designed as rules of pure living and high-breeding, cleanliness, abstinence, kindliness, charity, and courtesy, have been so multiplied and distorted that it is now difficult even for the most precise and devout Brahman to carry them all faithfully into practice. And if Christian teachers and reformers were seriously minded to overthrow this vast system of caste in India, they could successfully do so by quoting the VÈdas and the code of Manu, which prescribe no such arbitrary rules of life as now exist in India. It is our want of knowledge, and that of most of the modern Brahmans, which still holds them in their old fetters, rendering the efforts to free them of little avail, for we know not how nor where to begin the attack on such a strong fortress as caste and custom are to these blind followers of law and order.

Centuries after the consolidation of the Brahman power and system of caste there arose a strong-souled Aryan, a prince By birth, a republican at heart, and a reformer by nature, called Sakya SuddarthÀ, who no sooner became of age than he suddenly began to deny the inspiration of the VÈdas, the divine right of Brahmans to the priesthood, and the obligations of caste. He offered equality of birthright and of spiritual office alike to all men and women. Sudra, Pariah, Khandala, bond or free, were of one and the same great family. He went about declaring all men brothers. This was the strong point of Buddhism. The new religion spread at once. It ravished the hearts and kindled the imaginations of many Aryans, but chiefly the non-Aryan nations. Everywhere it was received with enthusiasm. Brahmanism and caste received their first great shock, from which they have never wholly recovered.

Buddhist Priest Preaching at the Door of a Temple.

Monastic orders first arose among the Buddhists, and as caste was abolished the monasteries were open to all men, and even to women, who were bound over to celibacy and self-renunciation. These Buddhist priests went about preaching their new religion to the common people, and found ready acceptance with them. Barefooted, with shaven heads, eyebrows, and chins, wearing a yellow dress instead of the pure white robes of the Brahmans, they seemed indeed lower than the lowest Pariahs. They built lowly chapels, and had regular services in them, chanting a prescribed liturgy, offering harmless sacrifices of incense, lighted tapers, rice, wine, oil, and flowers, and taking the lily instead of the Brahmanic lotos as the emblem of the purity of their faith.

Buddhism spread with amazing rapidity, and flourished for some time on Indian soil. During the reign of the celebrated Indian king Asoka, three centuries more or less before Christ, it was the dominant religion of India, about which time it was also introduced by Buddhist missionaries into Ceylon, China, and the Japanese Archipelago. At length, the Brahmans, recovering from the lethargy that seemed to have overtaken them, joined all their forces, and, rising en masse everywhere against these dissenters from the VÈdas and from the old code of Manu, drove out of Hindostan proper those whom they could not put to death. The Buddhists finally found refuge in Guzerat and ready acceptance among the early primitive races; and here the new religion reached its highest prosperity, but began to decline in the eighth or ninth century after Christ. At this juncture a new sect arose under the leadership of one Jaina, or saint, a man of great purity of character, who undertook to correct the many errors which had crept into Buddhism. Veneration and worship of deified men, confined by the Buddhists some to five and others to seven saints, were extended by the Jains to twenty-four, of whom colossal statues in black or white marble were set up in their temples. Tenderness and respect for animal life they carried to an extreme point, which has led to the establishment of the hospitals for infirm aged animals in different parts of India. In its essence Jainism agrees with Buddhism. It rejects the inspiration of the VÈdas, has no animal sacrifices, pays no respect to fire. But in order to escape the unremitting persecution of the Brahman priesthood it admits caste, and even the worship of the chief Hindoo gods. Thus Jainism secured that toleration on Indian soil which was never extended to Buddhism, the very birthplace of Buddha having been rendered a wilderness and untenanted by man through the rage and fury of Brahmanic persecution.

Brahmanism, finding itself once more in the ascendency, proceeded with great tact to incorporate into its ritual all the divinities, the rites, and the ceremonies peculiar to the non-Aryan populations. In Southern India Vishnoo is worshipped under the name and character of Jaggernath (or Juggernaut), "Lord of the universe;" but in Northern Hindostan this worship is mingled with that of Rama and Krishna, two Aryan heroes, whom the Brahmans with great political adroitness represent as later incarnations of both Vishnoo and Jaggernath. The pre-Aryan Mahrattas and Marwhars were brought to believe their supreme deities, Cando-ba, and Virabudra, as incarnations of Siva, and so on, until at length every god, hero, or saint belonging to the pre-historic inhabitants of Asia found a place in the Brahmanic calendar of incarnations of gods and goddesses.

Monotheism and polytheism exist side by side; purity and vice are only different expressions of a system as complex as life itself. Through all manners, acts, and usages, the most trivial or the most momentous, the Brahman religion flows in perpetual symbolism and stamps everything with its seal and mark. The pure Hindoos live in a network of observances, the smallest infraction of which involves the most terrible social degradation and loss of caste. They are bound by observances for rising, for sitting, for eating, drinking, sleeping, bathing; for birth, marriage, and death; for the sites of their homes and even the positions of their doors and windows.

The dwellings of Hindoos vary according to their means. The poorer have only one apartment, which must be smeared over once a week with a solution of the ordure of the cow. The better classes always have a courtyard and a verandah, where strangers, and even Europeans, may be received without risk of contamination. Very often the walls of the dwellings are covered with frescoes and paintings. The entrance to the dwelling is always placed, out of respect to the sun, facing the east, but a little to one side. Every morning at an early hour the Hindoo wife or mother of the home may be seen cleansing her house and her utensils for cooking, eating, and drinking. This done, she will wash or smear with cow-ordure the space about her dwelling. After this purification the wife will proceed to ornament the front of the door, which in itself is held sacred to the Brahman, with the form of a lotos-flower. This she makes out of a solution of lime or chalk, and imprints it on the door and on the space in front of it. This flower is emblematic of the name of God, too pure to be uttered, but supposed to bestow a magical charm on the dwelling on which it is inscribed.[43]

No one is so scrupulous with regard to personal neatness, purity, and cleanliness as the true Hindoo woman. The Hindoo sacraments are ten in number, with five daily duties that are as obligatory on the Brahman as are the sacraments in the Roman Catholic Church. The first sacrament begins with the unborn babe; it is the conceptional sacrament. Attended by the mother of a large family, the young wife repairs to a temple with a peculiar cake made of rice, sugar, and ghee (clarified butter), and with a fresh cocoanut. The goddess invoked on such occasions is Lakshina, the consort of Indra. They first offer up a prayer before her shrine, meditate on her glorious progeny of gods and heroes, then implore her kindly interposition in behalf of the young woman who is to become a mother; after which the elder matron breaks the cocoanut and pours the liquid out as an offering to the goddess, and part of the cake and cocoanut is brought home and distributed among the members of the family.

The next ceremony is a very profound one, and has an especial reference to the quickening of life in the babe. The mother, shrouded in pure white from head to foot, accompanied by an elder female and mother of a large family, with her husband and father repair to the temple. One or more Brahman priests are invited to preside on this occasion. Oil, flowers, and lighted tapers are offered to MahadÈo the Great God. The priest pours the oil presented on a lighted lamp, then performs a wave-offering over the head of the expectant mother, praying, "O thou who art light, thou art also life and seed. Accept our sacrifice and make the new life thou hast created in secret visible in beauty and strength and power of intellect." After which offerings according to the wealth of the parties are made to the priests. There is one more important ceremony, similar in character to the others. All these sacraments are performed only in the case of the first child.

The birth ceremony takes place on the birth of every child. On this occasion a Brahman priest and an astrologer are invited. The mother of a large family and the grandmother are generally present. Before dividing the umbilical cord fire is waved over the child, a drop of honey and butter out of a golden spoon is put on his lips, after which the cord is severed. This is a very sacred ceremony, called "Jahu Karan" ("introduction to life"), and is performed with prayer, indicating that as the child's life is now severed from the parent life, so is all life at some time or other parted from the Central Life, but yet dependent on that as the infant is on the tender care of a mother. The father then draws near and looks upon the face of his son or daughter for the first time, at which he must take a piece of gold in his hand, offer a sacrifice to Brahma, and anoint the forehead of the child with ghee which has first been presented to Brahma. A string of nine threads of cotton, with five blades of durba-grass, must be bound by the father round the wrist of the child, indicating that the life matured by nine months is to be made perfect by the five daily sacraments or duties. This done, the astrologer casts the horoscope of the child, which is carefully written down, whether good or evil, and is confided to the father. This paper is generally burned with the person at death.

When the infant is a month old, and the new moon is first seen, he is presented to it as his progenitor with a solemn prayer. After which the naming takes place. The child's nearest relatives are invited. A Brahman priest waves over it a lamp, then sprinkles holy water, and calls aloud its name as he anoints the ears, eyes, nose, and breast of the child with clarified butter. This done, a little dress prepared for the child is put on for the first time.

When the teeth begin to appear a grand religious service takes place, and its first food of milk and rice is given to it after it has been consecrated by the priest. At three years of age the prescribed religious ceremony connected with the shaving off of the boy's hair takes place, and the consecration of the single lock left on the top of the head. Next comes the investiture of the sacred thread, performed only in the case of the male child.

Between the ages of fourteen and sixteen the youth formally presents himself before the temple to be admitted to the order to which he belongs. He is placed on a stone near a sacred tank in the precincts of a Hindoo temple; he is then washed in pure water by the priests robed in spotless white garments; the holy "Gayatri" is repeated in his right ear by one priest, while the other breathes over him the mystic trisyllable of "Aum, Aum, Aum," after which he is invested with a new sacred thread.

Marriage is also a sacrament. The male may be married at any time after the "mung," or investiture of the sacred thread; the time for this ceremony varies among the different castes. The female, however, must not be under ten years of age, and as she is obliged to be several years younger than the male, he is generally from sixteen to eighteen at the time of marriage.

Particular rules are laid down to be observed in the choice of a wife. She must not have any physical or moral defects; she must have an agreeable voice, sweet-sounding name, graceful proportions, elegant movements, fine teeth, hair, and eyes. Deformity inherited or constitutional delicacy, or disease of any kind, weak eyes, imperfect digestion, an inauspicious name, or lack of respectable lineage, always operate as strong impediments to marriage. Once the choice is made by the parents, then the particular months and junctions of the planets are consulted by the joshis or Hindoo astrologers: the birth-papers of both parties are first examined, followed by a profound study of the stars, which sometimes takes a year to be completed, after which a writing called the Lagan-patrika is prepared, in which the day, the hour, the names of the parties, and the position of the planets are put down, and one of the eight different kinds of marriages mentioned in the Shastras prescribed as the most fitting in view of the astral relations of husband and wife. These eight different kinds of marriages, however, are more or less similar, and vary only when the different castes intermarry one with the other. This intermarriage is always attended with loss of caste. The ceremony observed by the Brahmanic caste is the most interesting, and is called "Brahma," from the sacredness attached to the rite. The bridegroom is obliged to prepare himself by certain prayers and ablutions before he can be presented to his future wife, whom he often sees for the first time, but of whose charms, graces of person, and character he is fully informed beforehand. Robed in pure white, anointed with holy oil, and wearing garlands of fresh flowers around his neck, he goes in procession, accompanied by his friends and relatives, to the bride's house, where he and his friends are welcomed as guests by the bride's father. The future wife is allowed to appear, and is generally veiled, so that even then the young couple do not see very much of each other.

On the afternoon of the day appointed for the wedding company to assemble at the house of the bride's father a raised platform is placed at one end of the hall; here the bridegroom takes his place, surrounded by the priests. Presently the bride enters the room accompanied by her father, who does homage to his future son and places his daughter at his right hand. After this a young priest enters bearing a large censer containing a charcoal fire, which is placed at their feet, and is emblematic of their warm affection. Two priests stand before them holding each a lighted torch in his hands, reciting some very beautiful prayers; meanwhile the bride rises and treads three times on a stone and muller[44] placed beside her, and which is meant to indicate that the cares and duties she is now about to assume as a married woman will be carefully observed. The bridegroom then makes an oblation of oil and frankincense to the fire, as typical of his gratitude to the gods for the blessing which is now about to crown his life; this done, the priest hands him a torch, which he takes and waves three times around the person of his bride, signifying that his love will always surround and brighten her existence; he then drops it into the pan or censer at their feet. The bride now scatters a handful of rice and a little oil as an oblation to the gods. The chant having ceased, the father steps up, and, taking a new upper and a lower garment, clothes the person of his daughter; he then fastens the end of her dress to the skirts of her lover's robe, and, taking the bride's hand, he places it in that of the bridegroom, binding them together with a mystic cord which is made of their sacred grass, typifying the delicacy of the marriage-tie, the strength and solidity of which depends not so much on the fragile cord which binds them, as on the individual will and resolution not to break it asunder. Then, conducted by the bridegroom, the young bride steps seven times around the sacred fire, repeating the marriage vows, the priests chant the nuptial hymn, and the marriage is consummated.

Every act of the Brahmanic ritual is symbolic. Thus in the evening of the same day, after sunset, the bridegroom sees his blushing little bride alone for the first time; he takes her by the hand, seats her on a bull's hide, which in its turn is symbolic of several spiritual and physical facts, one of which points to his power to support and protect her. Seated side by side, they quietly watch the rising of the polar star; pointing it out to her, he repeats, "Let us be steady, stable, serene, for ever abiding in each other's love, as that immovable and deathless star." Having sat in silent contemplation, they partake of their first meal together. The bridegroom remains three days at the house of the bride's father; on the fourth day he conducts his wife to his own, or, as it sometimes happens, to his father's house, in solemn procession. The Hindoo women are remarkably devoted as wives and mothers: instances of conjugal infidelity among the high caste are unknown, and extremely rare even among the lower castes of the Hindoo women.

The ceremonies attending the dead are worthy of brief notice here. The last moments of a Brahman are generally made very impressive by the prayers and recitations that take place around his dying pillow, the chief aim of which is to concentrate the thoughts of the departing soul on the fact that life is the master of death. "The sun rises out of life and sets into life; so does the soul of a pure Brahman. Life sways to-day, and it will sway tomorrow, O Brahman! Life is immortal; death but conceals the fact as the garment covers the body. Hasten, O soul, to the Unseen, for unseen he sees, unheard he hears, unknown he knows. As by footprints one finds cattle, so may thy soul, O Sadhwan (pure one), find the indestructible Soul," etc., etc.

The moment life is fled the high priest bends over the corpse with his hands folded on his breast and repeats a prayer. After which the near female relatives indulge in the most dismal howls and shrieks as expressions of their grief and lamentation. The body is then bathed by the priests, perfumed, decked with flowers, and placed on a temporary bier or litter. This is borne along through the chief thoroughfares, preceded by men who carpet with certain pieces of cloth the entire way; women follow, howling and weeping and casting dust on their heads. The funeral pyre, formed of dried wood, is three or four feet high and over six feet long; the corpse is laid on it, and over it is poured oil, clarified butter, and flowers made of fragrant woods. The priests stand around, sprinkle the body with holy water, and repeat a number of prayers which very clearly point to the mystery which enfolds all animate and inanimate life, within and without, and express earnest hopes that the body now about to be consumed may not draw down the soul to enter another body again. The nearest relative then applies the fire and the body is consumed. They who watch the fire repeat to themselves long passages from the Shastras and the Puranas on the vanity of human life and the deathless nature of the soul, after which they purify themselves before returning home. Eleven days after death the Shrada, or purificatory ceremonies, are performed by the heir, and in his absence the next nearest relative; then every month for a year, and lastly on the anniversary of his death.

Brahmans are held unclean for ten days after the death of a relative, the military caste for twelve, the mercantile for fifteen, and the Sudra for thirty. Among the Hindoos the body is burnt, except only in case of infants under two years, when it is buried. The "Shrada" is a ceremony very much like mass performed in the Roman Catholic Church for the souls of the dead who are in purgatory. Prayers are offered by the high priest and the nearest relatives, accompanied with gifts and offerings of rice, flowers, oil, and water, in order to free the deceased soul from a purificatory abode in which it is held, and to enable it to ascend to the heaven where its progenitors are thought to be united to the universal Soul.

The worship of the Brahmans and the high-caste Hindoos, though complicated by trivialities, is in its essence very simple and pure. The Brahmans do not themselves worship the idols in the temples, although they encourage the inferior castes and races to do so. Every act of a Brahman's life is stamped with a religious character, even as every breath that he draws is held to be a part of that "Divine Soul" that exists in the heart of all beings.

As the Brahman priests accommodated their religious beliefs to suit the popular mind, so have the Roman Catholic missionaries and priests effected a compromise between Hindooism and Christianity in India, and Eastern Christianity has assumed features as foreign to the sublime teachings of Christ as demon- and serpent-worship are foreign to the pure and natural religion of the VÈdas.

It is only by examining the existences of all the different races and layers of populations, and the mingling of so many and such conflicting religions, that we can rightly understand the India of to-day with her hydra-headed creeds, dogmas, and castes.