The Taptee River.—Surat and its Environs.—The Borahs and Kholees of Guzerat.—Baroda, the Capital of the Guicowars.—Fakeers, or Relic-Carriers, of Baroda.—Cambay.—Mount Aboo.—Jain Temples on Mount Aboo, etc.

The views along the Western Ghauts and the coast are very grand. We soon lost sight of all their varied beauty, and in a couple of days entered the splendid river Taptee, which flows broad and deep immediately under the walls of the city of Surat.

Almost at the mouth of the Taptee stands a lovely little island; opposite to this is a little town called Domus, a quaint, homelike-looking place, where Europeans spend the hot months. The river flows for miles through a richly-cultivated suburb of gardens, plantations, and beautiful houses, till it reaches the city, which is walled with bastions at certain points, but the walls and towers are fast crumbling away. At one extremity stands the famous old castle of Surat, about three hundred years old, looking older and more stained with time and age than even the fortress of Damaun.

Surat has a double wall and twice twelve gates, inner and outer, communicating with one another. But its history is even more varied and complicated than its "world-protecting" walls and wooden-leaved gates. It is written in the ruins found everywhere in the gardens, palaces of the nawabs, rajahs, and peishwas, as well as in the factories of the Dutch, French, Portuguese, and English, most of which are now transformed into hospitals, lunatic asylums, hotels for European travellers, or pleasure-houses and grounds for wealthy natives.

Here are also grand English and Dutch cemeteries, where many noted English and Dutch lie magnificently entombed in stately mausoleums, in order to impress the Oriental mind, which is always disposed to attach a certain kind of sanctity to piles of brick, mortar, and stone, whether priest, prophet, or knave lie interred beneath.

We tried to visit the "Pinjrapoore," or hospital for sick animals, here; it seems to be arranged much on the same plan as that in Bombay, but this place was too filthy to enter, and in that respect much inferior. Attached to it are large granaries, where all the damaged grain of the bazaars is piled up for the use of the sick animals in the hospital; and this it is which has rendered this place a perfect pest-house of insects and vermin of all kinds.

Fire-temples and towers of silence are numerous here, as Surat has a large Parsee community, who have been established in this region ever since the eighth century. The most curious and interesting people in this part of the world are the Borahs, the Jains, and Buniahs.

The Borahs are divided into two classes, the traders and the cultivators. They are Hindoos converted to Mohammedanism; they form the most active and industrious cultivators of the soil, as well as cotton- and cloth-merchants. Their dress, manners, and language are the same as those of the Hindoos. Cotton is the chief staple. The Borahs occupy an entire street in Surat, and it is especially distinguished as being the cleanest in the native town. Their houses are spacious and well built, with fine open balconies. Their women are well treated. They support here a number of Mohammedan priests, a bishop—have a fine mosque wherein to worship, and one of the best colleges in this part of the country, where the Borah youths receive a thorough commercial education.

The Buniahs are almost identical with the Borahs in their trading and commercial qualifications. They are the great grain-merchants here and everywhere. They are also divided into three classes—the cultivators, the wholesale merchant, and the petty retailer, who travels from village to village with his grain-bags on his shoulders. The Buniahs, however, are Hindoos in religion as well as by birth.

The Jains, of whom mention has already been made, are seen in great numbers in the streets and bazaars. Their dress is a long white robe descending in full folds from the shoulders to the feet, and over the shoulders is thrown another long loose piece of white cloth; the head and beard are closely shaven. But the most striking peculiarity is a bit of white cloth of fine texture which they wear over the mouth to prevent them from destroying, by inhaling into their lungs, the minutest insect life. They are always found with a little broom in their hands, no matter where they go, so as to sweep the ground before seating themselves, with the same end in view—the preservation of all insect life; for this purpose they walk very slowly with their eyes cast on the ground. To destroy life, even unintentionally, is the inexpiable sin, and a Jain will not drink any water until he has strained it, nor will he take any meal or drink of any kind after sunset, lest he should happen to devour some living thing. The Jains have some fine temples in this city.

Surat was long in the possession of the Mohgul emperors. In 1842 the last nawab died, and it passed into the hands of the East India Company. It is still a great trading city; the surtee rassum, or manufactured silk of Surat, is very beautiful; the gold and silver ornaments sold in the bazaars are unique and of fine workmanship. Surat is also famous for the weaving of many varieties of cotton cloths; these are usually woven in small chequered patterns with bright and elegant borders. Potteries are not only numerous, but some pottery of very fine form and quality is sold in the bazaars and is said to be of home manufacture.

The last day we spent in Surat was passed in driving through the suburbs in a native wagon drawn by a fine pair of humpbacked white bullocks (zebus), who carried us rapidly over the ground. We alighted at the palace of the last nawab, called at once the "gift of God" and the "seat of oppression." Of its being the former there is no trace, but the shadow of the latter name seems still to fall upon the partially deserted place. Apart from the collection of Persian and Arabic manuscripts to be seen in a room adjoining the palace of the nawab, there is nothing to interest the curious visitor. With the removal of the Moslem flag that once waved so proudly over the citadel of Surat the glory of the Mohgul conquerors departed.

The Mohgul quarter of the city is gradually falling into decay; ruin and desolation mark the spot where many a noble pile of Moslem dwellings once stood. The very name of the Mohguls is almost a thing of the past, save that in household song and story their deeds will ever cast behind them a dark and terrible shadow.

We left Surat, or rather Soo Rashtra, "the pleasant country," seated in a dhuinee, a native wagon on two wheels with a cloth canopy overhead, and drawn by a pair of large, handsome humped oxen, with a Bheel guide, the pundit, and two servants. We had traversed a large extent of country, halted under trees by the roadside and at mean little dhurrum-salas, without fear or molestation of any kind, with but few detentions, and only one accident to our wagon, which was repaired almost at once by applying to the headman of a village near by, who not only sent us a blacksmith, but came out to see the work done himself. The plan adopted in our travels through the Deccan we carried out in our entire journeyings through Guzerat and back—i. e. to send the pundit to the governor of the town or to the headman of the village to ask escort and guide for the place itself as well as to the next station; and in no instance were these unfaithful to the trust reposed in them. When they quitted us at the appointed station we generally made them a small present, which brought down upon us showers of blessings and unqualified praise. I did not doubt, however, that our good-fortune in this respect was owing to the dignified bearing and sanctified presence of our Brahman pundit. For the first few miles from Surat to Ratanpoore, "the Jewel City," the road was deep and heavy, and our wagon dragged slowly along, but it was not long before we came out on a magnificent park-like country, which is the characteristic of almost the whole vast province lying west of the Deccan. It was delightful to hear our Bheel guide singing in his deep sonorous voice as he trotted on by our side, in which music he was joined occasionally by our driver. One of his songs was intended to gratify European hearts and ears (with the "inam," or present, in prospect, I suppose), the chorus of which was as follows:

This chorus was kept up with great animation until we reached the Jewel City, which is named after the extensive carnelian-mines in its neighborhood. Our measure of sleep at the miserable halting-place was stinted, for we started at dawn to visit the mines, situated some distance from the village along the slope of a picturesque hill. The road was literally covered with discarded pieces of carnelian. The mines were neither high nor deep. The entire face of the hill is perforated with galleries or pits that run in every direction. The gems are found imbedded in a slimy black clay holding numerous organic remains. In some parts the pits are carried down thirty feet before the peculiar deposit in which the carnelian abounds is reached. It is also found in many other places here still unknown to Europeans, as the natives keep the secret, as far as it is possible, to themselves and even from one another. It was interesting to see the men working at the mines. They were very poorly clad, with only a langoutee, or waist-cloth, round them, and each division was superintended by a number of better-dressed men called sirdhars, or "head lords." The stones are collected in great quantities, then tried by means of another sharp stone prepared for the purpose. If they chip easily they are discarded, but if they have a firm, compact texture and a deep-black color, they are selected, cleaned, and exposed on strips of rough straw mattings to the sun's rays for the space of a year or more, since the longer they are thus exposed the brighter the color and polish after baking. The process of baking these stones is both curious and original. The rough stones are piled in small heaps on the ground, which is slightly hollowed out to receive them. Small earthen pots with holes in them are placed over each pile; then a quantity of goat- or sheep-ordure is heaped up on each pot; it is then kindled and allowed to smoulder all night. On the following morning the stones are carefully examined, and if they have acquired the deep bright tint peculiar to the carnelian known to commerce, they are ready for the jeweller's polish; if not, they are once more subjected to the fire. The shops in Baroda, Cambay, and AhmedabÂd have great varieties of these stones for sale; for they are not only carved into rings, beads, bangles, boxes, vases, bowls, and mouthpieces for pipes, but idols for the Jain, Hindoo, and Buddhist temples are also fashioned out of them.

Our journey from Ratanpoore to Baroda was through a very beautiful country, and, though it is said to be infested with Kholee and Bheel robbers, we passed through it without the least molestation. At one point of the road not far from Baroda we espied a thick wood above which towered the slender spires of some Hindoo temples. The moment these were seen our pundit, driver, and Bheel escort craved permission to retire for puja, or worship, for a few moments. The oxen were fastened to the branch of a tree by the roadside, and we alighted and walked about until our pious attendants had finished their devotions to the goddess Bhawanee, enshrined even here as the favorite of the reigning Mahratta kings.

Baroda, or Varodah, "the good water country," is now the capital of the Guicowars, which name means, literally, "owner of heads of cattle." It is the quaintest, the most densely populated, and independent city in this province.

The first Guicowar, a peasant by the name of Pullahji, was employed as a domestic in the service of the Peishwa Baji Roa. He soon raised himself by means of his extraordinary military talents to the rank of a commanding officer of the Peishwa's troops. Shortly after, having won over the army, he declared his independence and established himself on the throne of the Peishwas in Guzerat. Having sprung from the hardy Khumbis, or cultivators of the soil, he was justly proud of his race, and assumed the ancient title of Guicowar. Whenever opportunity offered, Pullahji, bent on conquest, invaded the Peishwa's territories, carrying pillage and disorder through the richest provinces of Nagpoor Rajpootana. His successors, however, have been obliged to employ the aid of the British troops to hold their own in these provinces, which are at best but partly subjugated.

We crossed an old Hindoo bridge of curious structure consisting of arches placed one over the other, and spanning an impetuous but extraordinarily beautiful river still bearing the polished Sanskrit name of Vishwamitra, or "the friendly preserver." It flows strong and swift for many miles through a deep rocky channel. Its banks are singularly striking in some parts, rising on either side from fifty to sixty feet. Its waters, instead of appearing friendly, seemed dark and turbulent, not unlike the barbaric city which stretched along its banks. Temples, mosques, tombs, mausoleums, and dark, sombre-looking fortresses are seen everywhere; great flights of stone steps lead to the fast-flowing river, and all day long these are crowded with men and women washing, bathing, or filling their water-jars. The suburbs of Baroda extend for miles, and in the most densely crowded part of the capital the streets are narrow and crooked, the houses mostly of wood, but built with a view of architectural effect. Some are almost like pretty Swiss chÂlets, and others not unlike Italian villas. At the cross-roads and in various parts of the streets and lanes are seen queer little temples with the oddest of gods and goddesses enshrined in them—deities of the woods, fountains, streams, and even of the streets—and over these fluttered the gay-colored flags of the Guicowar. As for the inhabitants of Baroda, as seen in the streets, verandahs, and shops, they are quite characteristic. Specimens of every Eastern nationality may be seen here, and, what is more, in the martial atmosphere of the place they seemed more like freebooters, murderers, and warriors than like the simple citizens of a great agricultural district such as Guzerat presents outside of her cities and towns.

The city proper, or rather the citadel, is walled. It is entered by huge gateways guarded by soldiers, and made even more imposing by the lofty round towers that crown it on either side. It is divided into four portions, three of which are occupied by the nobility of the court of Guzerat, and the other by the palaces and buildings of the Guicowar himself. The antechamber of the palace is a huge stone structure supporting a many-storied wooden balcony, from the centre of which rises a lofty pyramidal clock-tower painted in various colors and looking fantastic beyond description. Here we saw the Guicowar going to worship at some temple; he was preceded by a number of led horses and elephants splendidly caparisoned; then came his standard borne on a great elephant, followed by the Guicowar himself. After him came men on foot in scarlet dresses, and more elephants. The elephants here are trained for riding, hunting, war, and even as executioners and combatants.

The English station is very picturesquely situated, and is purely European in appearance. The contrast is all the more striking after seeing the citadel of the Guicowar. It is on the north bank of the river Vishwamitra, and not far from the great highway are the British residency and travellers' bungalow, where we were most comfortably lodged.

One of the most ancient and curious temples to be seen here is situated at the west end of the suburbs of Baroda. It is called Ghai Dawale, "the cow temple." The front is imposing. A portico with granite pillars admits you into a series of vaulted chambers, and there are numberless idols of gods and goddesses enshrined in niches, with offerings of flowers before them and red paint sprinkled over their persons. A great many corridors lead to other chambers, cells, vaults, and mysterious retreats that have sprung up round it owing to the vast number of priestesses called PÁthars attached to it. Another feature of Baroda are the magnificent bowries, or wells, that are found here; some are in themselves most exquisite pieces of architecture, and may be called temples built over reservoirs. The entrance to these well-temples are by five or more pavilions; thence a flight of stone steps leads to a second dome, which is arched, and under the outer dome, which is in its turn supported by lofty pillars and is pyramidal, then more steps and more pillars, until the level of the water is reached, which is again covered by a last and beautiful dome supported by innumerable short pillars. The largest of these wells in Baroda is called Nou Laki, or "Nine Laks," from its having cost that amount in building. It was erected by Suleiman, the governor of Baroda in A. H. (Mohammedan) 807. The water is very delicious, and here people from all parts of the country assemble to drink—mendicant Brahmans, gossains for alms, and fakeer carriers of relics to trade. The latter is not a mendicant, but a religious trader, whose chief claim to sanctity consists in the marks he wears on his brow and nose. These men go from place to place carrying their curious relics in curtained baskets slung across their shoulders; their shirts and cumberbunds are filled with balls, beads, and pins made from the wood of the toolie[85] and other sacred trees. They have beads of sandal and other woods strung into necklaces, bracelets, armlets, and anklets, mud figures of gods and goddesses made of the sacred clay of the Ganges, the Godaveri, and the Brahmapootra, precious bones of saints and prophets carved into amulets, and any quantity of yellow threads as a preservative against the evil eye. Women and children flock round these relic-carriers, and in return for grain, cloth, silver, and gold they will fasten a small yellow thread, a bead, an amulet, or a precious bit of some dead saint's bone—these, however, they part with only for gold or silver—around their wrists, arms, neck, and feet, to preserve the wearer not only from the evil eye, which is much dreaded in the East, but from all diseases and from sudden death.

Once more in our native wagon, with a fresh guide and escort we started for Cambay, the Khambayat of the ancients. We passed through a luxuriant country, for Guzerat is indeed the garden of the East. The thriving villages enclosed with great hedges of prickly pear; the pretty little wooden houses of moderate size, all built on the same plan, with farms, or cotton-plantations, or fruit-orchards of mangoes, tamarinds, etc., attached to them; the two-storied houses of the priest, the village schoolmaster, and the headman, with their high verdant hedges shutting off the house from curious eyes and separating it from its neighbors,—this all makes up a pretty picture. In the centre of these Guzerat villages there is generally a Hindoo temple, and a space fenced or hedged in where all the villagers assemble for prayers, celebration of holidays, and other festival gatherings.

The Guzerati women are handsome, well-formed, and remarkably industrious; many of them do all their weaving and spinning at home. Their chief food consists of eggs, fowls, milk, cream, and cheese: some of the Guzerat Brahmans will eat fowl and even game. The men are well-formed, athletic, and of fairer complexion than the natives of Southern India.

Cambay is a city of great antiquity and well known to early European travellers. In 1543, Queen Elizabeth of England sent a mission to Khambayat, with instructions to proceed thence to China. The Hindoos state that on the site of Cambay stood twelve hundred and eighty years ago an ancient Brahman city—according to Forbes, the Camanes of Ptolemy. It derives its present name, however, from a copper pillar, called "Khamb," dedicating it to the presiding deity of the place, the earth-goddess DÈvi; the date on this pillar is a little before the eleventh century of our era. Cambay has an air of extreme sluggishness and rapid decay, and one cannot fail to see its changeful history in its numerous foundations. Everywhere are remnants of many cities and many kinds and styles of architecture, built one above the other.

The travellers' bungalow here comprises the upper stories of a spacious stone building, once the English factory. It overlooks the entire city, which is built on an eminence, with its old walls perforated with holes for musketry, its fifty-two towers and ten gates guarded by soldiers, and also looks out upon the great Gulf of Cambay, than which I know nothing more formidable in nature. At low tide for miles out one sees only a vast plain, moist, strewn with shells, and intersected here and there with deep hollows and shifting sandbanks; but when the tide changes, and long before the waters appear in sight, are heard tremendous sounds, crash after crash, thunder after thunder, of the advancing tide, which comes in leaping like a huge monster, thirty to forty feet high, and breaks with terrific violence against the shore, carrying everything before it. Ships and native vessels anchor at a point some miles down the gulf, where the tides are less strong.

Cambay has witnessed many a dreadful scene of carnage by the Mohguls, Hindoos, Persians, and Rajpoots. The only objects of real interest here are subterranean Jain temples; they are situated in the Parsee district. The exterior, or rather upper part, of the temple would be insignificant but for the imposing statue of Parswanath, sculptured in white marble, surrounded by a host of smaller images, many of which are jewelled and are sold as household deities. Our guide pointed to us a queer narrow opening at the side which led by means of steep steps to the underground temples which the Jains, like the early Christians, built for purposes of midnight assembly and worship in order to escape the persecution of the Mohammedan conquerors of Guzerat.

Emerging from one of the gates of Cambay, we wended our way through ruins which are scattered all about the neighborhood. Now a broad paved pathway, now crumbling tombs, anon ancient structures, a broken archway, a cluster of roofless pillars, or, again, dilapidated temples, mark the sites where stood rich and quaint habitations, temples, or pavilions of the ancient Hindoos. The richness and luxuriance of nature seems to have vanished also from these ruinous suburbs, and our road was no longer beautiful, but lay through a deep sandy plain until we entered the ancient capital of the great sultans, AhÂmÂdabÂd or AhmedabÂd, one of the unrivalled cities of the East.

The travellers' bungalow is a pleasant place, and everything in the way of living is as cheap and good as one could possibly desire. We engaged a very intelligent guide, who spoke Hindostanee well, to take us to the places best worth seeing.

Our first drive was to Mirzapoor to see the Ranee-Ki-Musjid, or "the Queen's Mosque," an enchanting spot. The moment we alighted in front of it a very old fakeer, with a multitude of necklaces round his neck, came out to greet us, and for a rupee showed us about the place. The mosque and mausoleum here are both beautiful marble structures, erected to the memory of a princess, Rupavati. Her tomb, which is richly ornamented, is of a mixture of Moslem and Hindoo style of architecture. The dome is magnificently fretted, and pillars standing at each tower form a graceful colonnade around the tomb. But perhaps the chief and peculiar beauty was the situation of these partially ruined monuments, amid a wild tangle of fruit and other trees where birds, squirrels, and monkeys find a pleasant home. The second mosque and tomb are not far off, dedicated to the memory of a Mohammedan queen called Ranee Sipra-Ki-Musjid, "the Queen Sipra's Mosque," one of the favorite wives of Ahmed Shah, the founder of the city. These are exquisite buildings too, and in the finest Saracenic style; the pillars and minarets have an air of wonderful loftiness and beauty.

The Kanch Ki-Musjid, or "Glass Mosque," and the Jummah-Musjid, are both remarkably beautiful structures. The Glass Mosque, so called from the whiteness and purity of the marble of which parts of it was built, has a graceful dome after the Turkish style, terminating in a crescent. The Jummah-Musjid is in the vicinity of the great street, "Manik Chouk," which contains the chief bazaars and markets of AhmedabÂd. It is an oblong building, with a fine open courtyard containing a reservoir for washing the feet of the worshipper before entering the precincts of the temple. The light elegant domes of this building are supported by graceful pillars, and its open arches, minarets, and faÇades are most exquisitely ornamented.

The grand royal cemetery of Sarkhej lies several miles from the city of AhmedabÂd—a wondrous ruin, the ancient summer residence of Ahmed Shah. To approach it one is obliged to cross a fine pebbly stream fordable at points, called the Saber-Muttee, properly Safer Muttee, "pure sand." The road leading to these vast ruined structures of palaces, hareems, mosques, tombs, and gardens is still paved in some parts.

We were admitted by a saintly custodian, who became affable the moment silver coins were dropped into his half-open palm. Gury Baksh, or "the bestower of virtue," the spiritual adviser of Ahmed Shah, lies interred here beneath a splendid monument which attracts crowds of pilgrims annually. The tomb and mosque were completed by Khouttub-ood-din, the grandson of Ahmed Shah. The city is founded on the site of a very ancient and populous Hindoo town dedicated to and called after the goddess Ashawhalla, and is built out of the materials of one or more Hindoo cities which Ahmed Shah sacked and plundered, carrying away the stones, pillars, and monuments bit by bit.

AhmedabÂd was given up to the East India Company in 1818, and has been held by it ever since. It is impossible to do anything like justice to the beauties and attractions of this magnificent Mohammedan city. It abounds in stately monuments, mosques, mausoleums, palaces, great reservoirs, and gardens, in a more or less ruinous condition, but which show a high degree of civilization and point to a period when the Mohgul occupation of India was at its highest prosperity.

Leaving AhmedabÂd, we started for Mount Aboo, a place very little known, but one of the most beautiful spots in the world. The magnificent province of Guzerat is separated from Marwar on the north-east by a range of mountains in which are Mount Aboo and a beautiful mountain-lake called Aboogoosh. Passing through Desa, a military station for European troops, and across the Bhanas River, our road lay for many weary days through patches of jungle more or less dense until we found ourselves at the pretty little Marwar village of Andara, which lies at the foot of Mount Aboo. There is a good path from the village to the summit of the mount, and here a beautiful lake, called after the saint "Aboo," who is said to have excavated the basin in which it lies with his nails, and it is therefore called Nakhi Taloa, "Nail Lake." It is an exquisitely shaded bit of water, and in its vicinity are found wonderful Jain temples built of pure white marble. Not far from this spot is the sanitarium for travellers, where we took up our abode, barracks for convalescent European soldiers, and a quiet, unpretending little Protestant church.

The most important of the cavern-temples in the neighborhood are the Tij Phal and the Veinahl Sah. One is dedicated to a Jain saint, Vrishab-Deva. It stands alone in a square court, and all around it are little cells with deities enshrined in them. A number of strange-looking priests worship here, making offerings of saffron, lamps fed with ghee, and incense in small brass pots. One priest deliberately asked us for some brandy, and, as we had none to give him, proposed instantly to go back with us if we would give him some, because he suffered from pains in his stomach.

The temple dedicated to Parswanath, the great Jain teacher and saint, is an exquisite bit of architecture built of the purest white marble. From one of the vaulted roofs is suspended a cluster of flowers resembling the half-blown lotus, sculptured out of the rock; its cup and petals are so beautifully carved that they are almost as delicate and transparent as the flower itself. Everywhere the flowers, fruits, birds, and animals indicate that the artists must have taken their models from nature. There is also a fine Rajpoot fortress here. The dog-rose, a beautiful Indian flower called seotee, the pomegranate, the wild grape, the apricot, are among the indigenous products of Mount Aboo. The mango tree also abounds here, the white and yellow jessamine, the balsam, and the golden champa, which is sacred to the gods; but the rarest and most beautiful of all the plants is a parasite called by the natives ambathri, with lovely blue and white flowers, creeping, entwining, and blossoming around the largest forest trees.

It was a beautiful morning on which we returned to Andara. It was not without deep regret that we bade adieu to this charming mountain-region and the Jain temples enshrined within its heart. We turned again and again to take a last look at the bas-reliefs and the ornaments wrought here with such grace and delicacy of design as to become the despair of our more impetuous artists, before we could make up our minds to quit those extraordinarily beautiful monuments for ever.

Native Passenger Boat on the Hoogly.