No. X. CURIOUS MOPLAH CUSTOMS.

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The deed of violence which forms the basis of this narrative took place at Tollicherry, or rather in that district. How it was that my brother came to be stationed there will appear in due course. We left him at Bangalore, from whence he marched with his regiment to Secunderabad. He had not been there many months when an order was received directing the regiment to proceed with all possible speed to Scinde, where troops were urgently required. Some weeks before the order in question reached Secunderabad, my brother, finding that the climate of the Deccan did not agree with him, had applied for and obtained medical charge of the Zillah of Tollicherry; but as soon as he heard there was a chance of being engaged in active service, he had applied for permission to throw up the Zillah and to proceed with his regiment, and this was granted. He had, consequently, marched with the regiment from Secunderabad to Doolia, a distance of 600 miles, on the road for Scinde. The men had shown the best spirit, urged by their officers to do their utmost, and knowing that they were going to serve under Sir Charles Napier. They had accomplished the distance in an incredibly short period, but all their exertions, as it turned out, were of no avail. Sir Charles had fought his grand battle of Miani, and the regiment was no longer wanted.

With this chilling news came the order to halt and to divide. One wing was to remain at Doolia, the other to proceed to Assurghur. There never was such a melancholy change among officers and men as that produced by this order. Previous to its receipt there was not an officer or man on sick report; all were in the highest spirits, and, in spite of fatigue, earnest to get on, lively, cheerful, and happy. In a few hours there was neither a happy face nor a cheerful voice to be seen or heard. Disappointment, vexation, and dejection were on every countenance. In a few days half the regiment was in hospital, and nearly half the officers on sick report. My poor brother had a sad time of it; besides his own share of vexation and disappointment, he was worked off his legs.

Now he renewed his application for the Zillah of Tollicherry, which, in consideration of the proper feeling he had displayed, was again bestowed on him. To reach this station, from the place where he then was (Doolia), he had to travel 200 miles to Bombay, and from thence to proceed by sea to Tollicherry, a distance of about 800 miles. At that time the south-west monsoon was close at hand, and my brother, consequently, found it very difficult to procure a vessel that would undertake the voyage. At last, by paying double hire, he chartered a Satamar (called by the natives a Fatty mary), the owners and the serang engaging to take the risk, which in the sequel proved to be so fearful that it seems a miracle how ship or crew ever lived through it.

On the day that my brother set sail from Bombay the sky was, after mid-day, more or less overcast; towards the evening the sun appeared through the dense atmosphere to be almost of a blood-red hue, and the edges of the clouds of a deep copper colour. A little later the sun became to a great extent obscured and hidden by a mass of clouds, so much tinged by dusky red that the dark gray tone was almost extinguished. As the mighty orb sank below the horizon, the red, crimson, and copper tones quickly disappeared, except on the under surfaces of some clouds high above the sea-line, and darkness spread with extreme rapidity over everything, while a low moaning and fitful whistling of the wind seemed to presage a struggle of the powers, which from the beginning of the world has been attended with such fearful results. The aspect of the heavens, the moaning of the wind, and the uneasy motion of the waters, were not lost on the serang and his native sailors. They took in all sail except a small triangular one, a sort of apology for what we call a mainstay sail, to enable them to keep the ship's head to the wind. They then lashed the salankeen to the deck, and awaited with awe the bursting of the storm. It commenced with a perfect deluge of rain, blinding flashes of long-forked lightning, followed almost instantaneously by such rattling sharp crashes of thunder as for a time to take away the sense of hearing.

Sea and sky were wrapped in total darkness, when not illumined by the zigzag lines of lightning. The wind now increased, and the sea became dangerously rough and angry. Had the wind gone on increasing, bark and crew must have perished; but mercifully, it did not, its low muttering, moaning, or occasional whistling note was heard at intervals; still it never blew hard and furious as it threatened to do. The darkness, the downpour of rain, the lightning and the thunder, continued, while now and then a sea, and constantly the spray, swept over the vessel; for though the wind did not increase, the sea had been so raised, and the waves had become so threatening, that during two hours, while the worst of the storm lasted, my brother expected every moment that some overwhelming sea would whirl the unhappy Satamar into the depths below.

The storm had commenced a little after the sun had gone down, and darkness had covered everything; then the furious rain descending in sheets of water, with lightning streams and deafening thunder, had continued at short intervals for three hours, and the sea had got up. Everything depended on the increase of the wind, and for two hours more there was nothing less than the prospect of instant death present to the minds of all on board. Shortly after midnight the violence of the storm began to abate; the wind, instead of increasing gradually, subsided; the rain was less like a deluge; the flashes and streams of lightning were less frequent and less vivid; the crashes of thunder less sharp, and evidently more distant; but the sea did not go down. Nevertheless the magnitude and the violence of the masses of water that rose and fell were less appalling and less frequent.

It was now about half-past two, and there was an interval in the fall of rain (the first that had occurred). The sea no longer came sweeping over the deck, though the spray still kept everything wet, but the worst was over, and my brother had lain down to sleep. He was awakened by the serang with a native compass in his hand, followed by a sailor who was holding up a lantern to enable my brother to see the card. The vessel had been running down the coast, not very far from shore; but now a new peril presented itself.

The darkness was less complete, and was rapidly becoming less and less; this change enabled the natives to perceive something white not far ahead; they knew at once that it was the foam of breakers caused by a reef of rocks, on which if they kept their course they would certainly strike. They could not sail towards the land, as the coast is rock-bound almost everywhere, and they dreaded pointing the head of the ship out to the broad ocean. It is ever the custom with native mariners to hug the land, so in their distress, and seeing the breakers ahead, they had come to ask directions from their passenger, though they knew he was a hakim and not a sailor; but such was their respect for the knowledge of Europeans, that they thought he must know what was best to do. My brother at once directed them, in spite of their fears, to point the head of the brave little craft that had stood the storm so well out to sea, and such was their confidence in his wisdom that they at once did as he desired. Having thus avoided the rocks, and seen the head of the vessel pointed away from land, my brother again lay down to sleep.

Two hours had scarcely elapsed before he was again awakened by the serang with the compass in his hand. It was now light enough to see everything with perfect ease. The sea all round was comparatively calm, but the land was not to be seen. This it was that had again excited the fears of the crew, and had led them to appeal again to the European. On learning the cause of their fear, my brother directed them to put about and steer towards the land; they again obeyed, and again he went to sleep. At about half-past six a.m. he was awakened by sounds of rejoicing and singing, which he soon found arose from their sense of security, thankfulness, and gratification, at having again caught sight of the land. The sun was shining with power renewed, and everything was dazzlingly bright; even the light reflected from the sea was too much for the eye. The serang, however, soon rigged up a double awning which kept a part of the deck in shadow. This permitted my brother to take his breakfast comfortably. About midday they made the port of Goa, where he landed, but stayed there only to dine. In a couple of hours they were again at sea, and in two days more anchored at Tollicherry.

As soon as his trunks were landed, my brother made the serang happy by a present of 5 Rs., and the sailors equally so by another 5 Rs., to be divided amongst them. While waiting at the Bunder-Major's office for bearers to carry himself and the palkee to the doctor's house, a peon, with spotless garments of white save a red shawl twisted round his waist, bearing an ebony sort of curved staff covered almost all over with silver, presented my brother, after many profound salaams, with a note from the First Judge of the Circuit, requesting that my brother and his wife would give him the pleasure of their company till they could find a house to suit them. This princely man added that he had ordered a suite of rooms to be got ready for their reception, as well as rooms for the children and the servants; finally, that he had sent two sets of bearers to bring up the palankeens, and that the peon would procure fresh sets of coolie bearers to bring up the children and the ayahs, as well as means for forwarding the luggage.

On perusing this note, my brother jumped into his palankeen, which the Judge's bearers shouldered at once, and almost ran with it to the Judge's house, anxious to be the first to tell him that they had brought the new 'hakim saib.' On getting out of the palkee, my brother found Mr. V. waiting in the hall to welcome his guests. His first remark was, while extending his hand to my brother: 'But where's Mrs. ——?' The story of the going on active service, as it was supposed, and the impossibility under such circumstances of taking his wife with him, had then to be told. Mr. V. listened to the explanation, and then said: 'But where is she? Have you left her at Secunderabad all this time?' 'No,' replied my brother, 'she and the children have been staying at Anot, where her brother (in medical charge of the 5th Cavalry) is stationed.' 'And when do you expect them here?' continued the Judge. 'Why,' returned my brother, 'that depends, I believe, on the safe accomplishment of a certain trouble that married people are occasionally subject to.' 'Oh!' said Mr. V., 'that's the state of the case, is it? Well, it can't be helped, I suppose; you must make yourself as comfortable as you can here till the lady arrives.'

Mr. V. was not only a thorough gentleman in manner and exterior, but truly so in feeling; no one could be more unmindful of self, or more disposed to make everyone forget that he occupied the first position in the district. Frank, sociable, generous, and hospitable, as well as lively and good-humoured, he was a noble specimen of an Englishman, and a typical example of the best kind of the old Indian burra saib, a class that even in those days was fast disappearing, and cannot, I believe, now be found. My brother stayed with this kind and generous man during more than two months, and then he only succeeded in effecting his departure on the plea that he must prepare his house for the advent of his wife.

While Mr. V.'s guest, my brother made the acquaintance of all the European residents at the station, paying and receiving the customary visits, all which matters of form my brother heartily detested: but the Medes and Persians of old were not more rigid in their laws than Anglo-Indians are in the matter of paying and returning visits. My brother, therefore, obeyed the lex non scripta with as little delay as possible. He first made his bow to Mrs. A., the wife of the second Circuit Judge, a lady of whom it was whispered that she wore certain portions of costume generally considered to be propria quÆ maribus. However this may have been, her husband, Mr. A., was a most kind and excellent man. Mrs. H., the wife of the third Judge, with her husband, both became valued friends. Both are doubtless gone to the 'better land,' therefore it would not be kind or wise to grieve for them.

Next to the Circuit Judges comes the Zillah Judge, who was also a married man; consequently, to his house the hakim's palkee wended its way in due course. He found this lady so rigid in her religious opinions that she would not allow of any difference. On making this discovery he congratulated himself that she did not possess the power to enforce conformity; visions of solitary cells, bread and water, and other more dreadful pains and penalties, forcing themselves on his mind. Her husband seemed to be so far in leading strings as to have no opinions except those held by his wife; though, independent of this little weakness, he was very probably a good and estimable man. The expression of this gentleman's countenance was, however, usually so lugubrious and unhappy that my brother observed, when speaking of him: 'If his religion has the effect of making him as miserable as the expression of his features indicates, I very much doubt if it be the true religion,' and certainly the Zillah Judge's melancholy face did countenance such an opinion.

It is now time to speak of Mr. G., the sub-collector, who was as unlike Mr. H., the Zillah Judge, as it is possible for one man to be unlike another. Mr. G., to begin with, had no wife to save him the trouble of thinking on important matters, and was as good-humoured, jolly, and generous, as the other was melancholy and penurious. He was, moreover, as fond of fun as the other was fearful of it. H., in short, was a killjoy, and G. was a lovejoy. The consequence of these differences was that H. was not, generally speaking, a particular favourite, and G. was.

The list of officials closes, I think, with the Master-Attendant, or Bunder-Major, as he was popularly termed. This old gentleman had been captain of a merchant vessel, and was therefore, by courtesy, always called Captain B. He was a red-faced, jolly-looking old tar, really good-natured and kind-hearted, but one who murdered his mother tongue at times in rather a determined manner. The letter V seemed to be particularly obnoxious to him. When speaking of a gentleman named Vaughan, he called him 'Waughan.' Or when speaking of several articles of different qualities, he expressed himself thus: 'Oh, there was a many on 'em of wery warious qualities!' The poor man had evidently come from before the mast, but he had the manliness not to deny it, or be ashamed of it; and he was, despite the murders he perpetrated daily, a sort of privileged character, and to a certain extent a favourite.

Those not belonging to the list of officials may very soon be disposed of. Old Mr. B., a retired civilian, and his son, Henry, occupy the first place. The father was a jolly old bon-vivant, and had in his younger days, so it was said, been somewhat gay, if the word be accepted not in its literal sense, but in that in which it is usually employed in polite society. His son was a chip of the old block, and a bit of a scamp into the bargain. Mr. G., the German missionary, concludes the catalogue. This individual was in high favour with Mrs. A. and her husband, and with Mrs. H. and her husband.

The catalogue of European residents being concluded, it remains to notice the Eurasians, the greater number of whom were descendants of Portuguese and natives. Most of these were mean, degraded, lazy individuals forming a section of the population not very much respected. Some, no doubt, were respectable persons, acting either as writers (clerks), or tradesmen, tailors, carpenters, etc. There were some few of the Eurasian class descended from Englishmen and native women, who were also employed as writers in the Circuit Court.

One of these, a Mr. James, occasioned considerable amusement, both to the First Judge and to my brother, by presenting to the former a petition for a fortnight's leave of absence. Mr. James had found out that Mr. V. and his guest made it a regular practice to take an hour's constitutional walk every morning between 4.30 and 5.30, i.e., before the sun became unpleasant. The petitioner had made use of the opportunity afforded by this practice to prefer his request, which, as he removed his hat and made his best bow, he presented in the form of a petition, his face all the while radiant with smiles. Mr. V., without opening the paper, said: 'Well, Mr. James, what is the purport of the petition?' 'A supplication for leave, sir,' replied Mr. J., 'for a fortnight's leave.' 'This is a very unusual application, Mr. J., at this period of the session.' 'Yes, sir, I know it is somewhat unusual,' replied the petitioner; 'but still, sir, for the reasons assigned, I hope you'll be kind enough to grant it.' 'Well, what are the reasons?—state them.' Mr. J. had all this time been smiling blandly, and looking persuasively suppliant. Now he looked, in addition, not a little sheepish and ill at ease, shifting the weight of his person from one foot to the other. At last, he said: 'Would your honour cast your eyes on the paper?' 'What is it?' said Mr. V., 'are you ashamed to tell me?' 'No, sir, I'm not.' 'Then, why don't you tell me? The sun will be getting hot, and I can't delay my walk homeward any longer. Either tell me at once, or present your petition in Court before the business begins.'

Mr. James, thus urged, smiling more than ever and looking more sheepish than ever, confessed that he wanted leave to get married. 'To get married!' repeated Mr. V., with almost a scream of laughter; 'surely, Mr. James, you don't mean that?' 'I beg you'll pardon me, sir, my proposals have been accepted, and the day for the ceremony has been fixed.' 'The day has been fixed, has it?' said Mr. V., greatly amused; 'why, I should have thought, Mr. James, at your time of life you'd have given over all thought of such matters.' 'No, I haven't, sir,' replied the victim of the tender passion. 'No, you haven't,' said Mr. V., with renewed laughter. 'Why, what may be your age? It's in the register, you know, so you may as well tell it.' 'Why, sir,' said this ardent sample of humanity, 'I think I shall be seventy, or near it, next birthday.' Here my brother could contain himself no longer, and joined Mr. V. in a most uproarious fit of laughter. When the cachinnation was over, Mr. V. said: 'On my word, Mr. J., you are a most inflammable individual. Pray, how long has your first wife been dead?' 'Nearly eight years, sir, and I've been alone all that time.' 'Oh, you've been alone all that time, have you?' gasped out Mr. V. as soon as he could speak. 'It strikes me that, at your time of life, if you kept alone a little longer it would be no great punishment; but you ought to know best about that. Pray, who is the lady who is anxious to have such a blooming bridegroom as yourself?' 'Miss Lucretia Pereira, sir; her father is a very respectable man, sir.' 'No doubt of it.' returned Mr. V.; 'but who is he? you don't mean the head writer in the Zillah Court?' 'Yes, I do, sir,' simpered Mr. James. 'Mr. Pereira! why, his daughter can't be sixteen.' 'No, sir, I don't think she is more than sixteen.' 'And you are seventy,' said Mr. V. 'Well, all I can say is that you are a bold man, a very bold man, and I fear you will repent your boldness; but I will not stand in the way of such a courageous young hero. I will grant you the leave you desire; but tell the registrar to enter it, as well as the name of your substitute, which, by the way, you have not mentioned.' 'Oh, thank you, sir, thank you, it's young Mr. Pereira!' 'Well, well,' replied the Judge, 'now you have got your leave, let me get home.'

As Mr. V. and my brother walked homewards they indulged themselves with various jocose remarks at the expense of the amoroso. 'The old idiot,' said my brother, 'he deserves all that's in store for him.' 'The whole thing is comical enough, truly,' said Mr. V.; 'but, notwithstanding, I am, in spite of my laughter, sorry to see an old man, hitherto accounted respectable and well-conducted, laying up misery for himself at the close of his career.'

For the sake of getting rid of Mr. James and his bride, though it anticipates the dÉnouement considerably, I will state now what happened five months after the date of the said Lucretia's marriage. At that time she presented a little Miss James to her husband, who blandly remarked, in reference to the occurrence: 'That it was an extraordinary instance of what does sometimes happen, and of the wonderful powers of nature.' Mr. G., who happened to be present when the news was reported, made a somewhat cynical remark, which my brother declares he could never quite understand, though, in illustration of his meaning, Mr. G. indulged in making sundry grotesque contortions of his features, and in applying the index finger of the right hand to the side of his nose; which departure from strict decorum must, my brother presumed, be set down to his love of fun, and keen appreciation of the ridiculous.

This young person's career was what might have been imagined from its commencement, and more than fulfilled my brother's anticipations. The wretched old man died within a year from the date of the event I have recorded.

Let us now pass from the consideration of the Eurasians to that of the native races to be found at Tollicherry. The Hindoos there located are called Nairs and Teers. They possess good features, and are well formed and proportioned. They seem to have the same usages as other Hindoos, the same kind of temples, the same division into castes, and the same reverence for Brahmins, snakes, and monkeys.

The costume of these people, as far as relates to the men kind, does not differ much from that of the male Hindoos of other parts of India; that of the women is a little peculiar, as they wear nothing over their shoulders or busts. Their dress consists chiefly of a cloth, which they wrap round their waists so as to form a becoming sort of petticoat, or what serves the purpose of one. In the absence of any upper garment, they set a grand example to the great majority of the ladies of this and other civilized countries, where these feminine divinities use every conceivable art and contrivance to help to display the last hair's breadth that custom will allow.

The dwellings of the Nair and Teer people are pretty to look at, as they all have a small piece of ground that is well cultivated. They grow cocoa-nut trees, and other palms, pepper, vines, and plantains; and those who possess a larger portion of land raise rice and other grains.

The Mussulman population are not very numerous, and the greater number of these are shipowners and traders to the Persian Gulf, Arabia, and the Red Sea. They possess, many of them, considerable property, and inhabit large upstair houses which, according to native ideas, are very convenient and highly respectable, but unfortunately are not clean. The Bazaar men mostly inhabit huts like those to be found all over India. The dwellings of the Moplahs, a sort of cross breed sprung from Arabs and the natives of this coast, are like those of the Mussulmans, but inferior.

For the due understanding of the tale I have to tell, it is necessary that I should describe the manners and customs of the Moplahs in detail. I shall, therefore, return to them by-and-by. At present it will be convenient to finish the enumeration of the native inhabitants. It would indeed be a poor sketch of the place that did not bestow some notice on the numerous pariah dogs that roam about during the day, or the jackals that do the same by night, making it hideous by their howling, and dangerous too, as they generally go about in packs, tearing over the place, flying over the roads, which are narrow and mostly sunk between opposite banks which are about 6 feet high. In their spring over these roads, should a man be riding along (unless he is very quick), his head being slightly above the height of the banks, he is sure to be bitten; and if it was only ear, or nose, or cheek that suffered, though an unpleasant infliction, it would not be of any serious consequence. But this is not the case; these howling devils, in their snap, generally convey the poison of hydrophobia. Those who get this dreadful disease in this direct way are, however, few; it comes to man through the pariah dogs, who are frequently bitten by these mad jackals, and who, having themselves become infected, convey the poison by their bites to men.

During the first year of his residence at Tollicherry, my brother reports that seven Sepoys died of this incurable malady. The number of villagers and country people who died of it in this time was unknown. The authorities did all they could to keep down the number—I might say the swarms—of pariah dogs. The sub-collector, in this respect a man of dogged determination, was very diligent in collecting tongues and tails: for every pair of which he paid an anah. This practice was resorted to every hot season, and continued for more than three months; so that the dog-days, in this part of the world, last longer it would seem than they do elsewhere. But jackals and dogs form only a small part of the native inhabitants of Tollicherry. My brother says, 'I do not include in my list domestic animals such as horses, oxen, buffaloes, goats, sheep, or even donkeys, which we all know are common enough everywhere; but those ugly and deadly things not met with everywhere. In all the backwaters, rivers, and marshes, there are numerous muggers, or alligators; and some of these monsters are so large and so powerful that they have been known to drag down into the water, in spite of the poor animal's utmost efforts, a full-grown buffalo.' My brother witnessed an occurrence of this kind, as he was driving in a buggy within sight of a backwater. He was too far off to render the poor creature any aid; he was besides without weapon of any kind, though nothing but a good rifle would have been of any use.

In the sea all along this coast sharks of all kinds abound; and on and in the land there are snakes, scorpions, and centipedes innumerable. Of the birds, my brother says little or nothing, as they did not to his eye differ much from those met with in other parts of the country. There were kites and crows, those invaluable scavengers, and many smaller birds which he did not notice. He concludes his list of native inhabitants with the monkeys, which were very numerous; differing much in size, shape, and colour. He describes a monkey standing about 3 feet high, and black all over, except the white ruff under his chin, as a very fine and handsome specimen of the race, and of a species differing from the rest of the quadrumana.

By using this word species, I fear my brother has exposed himself to the wrath of the infallible Dr. Darwin, who, in his wonderful scheme of development by evolution, has stated that the quadrumana are our immediate progenitors. He has not, it is true, explained from which kind of monkey man is developed; nor how it happens that there are not as many kinds of men as there are of monkeys; or whether his friend 'Development' doubles up all the monkeys, great and small, black and brown, before she makes a man. All this, and much more, it is true he has not explained, but he has told us that our earliest ancestor or progenitor is an Ascidian (a cell), and that in a long course of ages, by the agency of his gossip 'Development,' the cell becomes this, that, and the other, the penultimate change being into a monkey, and the ultimate into a man. Harlequin's wand does nothing comparable to this. To convert a cell (a mere bag) into a man was reserved solely for 'Madame Development.' After effecting such wonders, it would be little short of high treason towards the man who discovered 'Madame Development's' powers, ungrateful, insulting, and a sell, indeed, had my brother omitted to take some notice of our immediate progenitors. I hope, ladies and gentlemen, you are none of you Darwinians; if you are, what a profane and sacrilegious infidel must my brother appear! Yet even here I espy some comfort if you, as well as being Darwinians, are also of the 'advanced platform,' as the phrase is in the wisdom of this nineteenth century; because then you will have mercy on me, as an insane person. Almost all murderers are, by the advanced wisdom of this same century, put down as insane, and are not to be hanged, as they deserve to be, but are to be maintained at the public expense; i.e., at your and my expense—though we may have wives and a dozen hungry children to provide for—in order that the murdering gentleman may have time to repent; in other words, that he may have another opportunity of imbruing his hands in another victim's blood. 'Oh, by all means abolish capital punishment!' said the witty Frenchman, 'only let the murderers set the example.' Well, sir, or madam, I hope now you will not be less merciful to me, even if you be a Darwinian, than the wise men of the advanced platform are, or would be, to the murderer. So with renewed hope, having finished the catalogue of the native inhabitants of Tollicherry, I will proceed with the promised details respecting the Moplahs.

With such superlative examples of grace and beauty as those constantly observed among the daughters of the three British Isles, and the almost irresistible power exercised by these 'Queens of Creation' over the opposite sex, we need not call in question the effects recorded of this same irresistible power in ancient days. Jove himself, it is said, could not resist the exquisite form of Leda. Troy was besieged for ten years, and destroyed at last, to recover a matchless but naughty Greek lady, who ran away from her husband with a handsome scapegrace called Paris. Antony lost the dominion of the world for Cleopatra's smile. And, coming nearer to our own times, Diana of Poitiers at sixty, so historians tell us, retained so absolutely the affections of a king of France, that he simply doted on her ('doted on her simply' would be the better form of expression). And Ninon de L'Enclos, at seventy, drove all the young bloods of Paris demented by her beauty, which, it is positively affirmed, far surpassed that of all the younger ladies who approached her. One of the greatest of the Mogul Emperors, Jehangire, was so enchanted by the charms of a Turkoman maiden, who, when she grew up, was called 'Mhere ul Nissa,' the sun of women, and was afterwards the far-famed Nour Jehan, that he committed a dreadful crime to obtain her. This lady, in the early bloom of beauty, had been brought to Delhi, was seen by Prince Jehangire, and in both bosoms a mutual passion was kindled. But she had in her infancy been betrothed to Shere Afkun, a Turkoman of noble birth and distinguished merit. According to Indian notions nothing should be suffered to interfere with the fulfilment of such a pledge, and therefore the reigning Emperor (the celebrated Akbar), from a high sense of what he believed to be right, over-ruled the wishes of the lovers, and insisted that Mhere ul Nissa should be married to Shere Afkun. Jehangire bore his despair and disappointment as he best could, until, by the death of his father Akbar, he became the Emperor of India. Then power, united with his grief and passion, overcame his better nature, and he had the unfortunate Shere Afkun murdered, and at the same time he got possession of the person of Mhere ul Nissa. But for years the guilty monarch sued in vain. At last the lady consented to be his wife and the Empress of India.

All this proves that the dominion of beauty is confined to no hemisphere, and specially serves to introduce the present narrative, which relates to a part of India which, of all others, from the debilitating nature of the climate, and the peculiar customs of the people we are to speak of, would seem to be the least likely to furnish a tale of love and passion. But however unlooked for or unexpected the usages or customs on which a story-teller founds his narrative may be, or however unusual the circumstances arising from them, he cannot be held responsible for the facts or their results, so long as it can be proved that the said usages and customs do really exist.

In the present case the Moplah customs and usages referred to practically obtain over a considerable part of the western coast of India, i.e., from the country of Mangalore, and from some distance north of it, to Cochin, and some distance south of it. In short, these customs are known and followed wherever the race has spread. For the details of the murder committed by these Moplahs my brother's notes are clear and precise, and for the particulars respecting AminÈ after her return to her own country he declares that he gives the account as it was given to him by a Mussulman pilgrim, who, many years after the date of AminÈ's death, passed en route to Mecca through her native place. The Mussulman pilgrim was a merchant of Tollicherry, who, being naturally interested in her fate, from knowing how barbarously her husband had been murdered, collected all the information he could from those who had been about her. He had it written down, and on his return to India forwarded it to my brother, who was then at Madras. My brother had it translated from the Persian into English, and has embodied it in the present narrative.

The Moplahs are, as aforesaid, a sort of cross-breed sprung from the seafaring Arab traders and the native women of the west coast. The children of these alliances settled on the coast with their mothers. Hence the Moplah race. They are men of large frame, and particularly strong and powerful. They are either cultivators of the soil, or merchants trading by sea. Some of the headmen among them are possessed of large estates, employ numbers of servants, and own numerous herds of cattle, flocks of sheep, and goats, with some horses and donkeys. Others possess Patamars and Dhonies. All cultivate the soil. Of this class of wealthy proprietors two individuals, at the time referred to, were generally regarded as chiefs or headmen. Both were almost equally wealthy, and equally looked up to by their neighbours. The younger of the two, although a Moplah, was a remarkably fine handsome man, retaining something (though not enough to spoil his good looks) of the Arab or Jewish cast of feature. He was of a disposition more frank and joyous than is usually met with among Arabs or Moplahs; his name was Lutchmon Sing. The other, called Saul Jan, was not so tall by four inches as his neighbour Lutchmon Sing, but he was larger in the body, broader in the shoulders, and was in all respects an amazingly powerful man. He exhibited the reserved, morose disposition characteristic of the race.

Before the occurrences in which these two men were the principal actors are spoken of, it is necessary to notice, as briefly as possible, the peculiar customs of the race in reference to women. With respect to property, or in fact anything they happen to covet, the Moplahs entertain the most advanced notions, and, with regard to the other sex, opinions and customs that are, to say the least of them, most singular. Any Moplah gentleman may visit any other Moplah gentleman's wife whenever he pleases; all he has to do is to leave his shoes outside the other gentleman's door. When this signal is made, no husband dare intrude. The visitor may stay the whole night, or as many hours as he chooses; it is all one. No person can enter the house, nor is such a thing ever thought of, till the visitor's shoes disappear. Whatever the husband may suffer, or however desirous he may be of standing in the visitor's shoes, it cannot be done, and it is bootless for him to complain. Under all circumstances he must restrain his feelings until the visitor removes his shoes. Well, the reader will probably say this is a very pretty and a very moral custom indeed, but is it really a fact? It is indeed. The reader will then probably inquire if the man aggrieved has no redress. Certainly he has, according to Moplah notions, complete redress. Has he not the right of returning the gentleman's visit, and of leaving his shoes outside that gentleman's door as long as he pleases? The Moplahs declare that all visits of this kind are punctually returned, so you perceive the politeness is mutual, however widely spread. Moplah notions of politeness and etiquette are very enlarged, it must be confessed, and thoroughly communistic; they have nevertheless certain advantages. For instance, the husbands are never troubled with sons to provide for, as all the children are, in every sense, the wife's children. In fact, no child knows who his or her father is or may have been. These are secrets, probably known to the ladies; but no one has the effrontery to make impertinent inquiries, consequently Moplahs never think or speak of their fathers, only of their mothers.

Whence this highly modest and delicate custom has been derived my brother has been unable to ascertain. 'If,' says he, 'I might offer a suggestion, I should say that it might be derived from an extended study of zoology, particularly of that wonderfully intelligent, faithful, and valuable race designated canine, as well as of that of our immediate progenitors, the quadrumana, amongst whom very similar usages obtain.' On this point the opinion of Dr. Darwin would be invaluable. The suggestion he has offered is to a certain extent confirmed and borne out by the common remarks of the vulgar, who, besides being ignorant of zoology, are ill-minded persons, who declare that these Moplahs one and all are 'dirty dogs,' which it is obvious can only be true of half the race. But it is wise and safe not to carry the scrutiny too far, lest we should be led to apply an ill-sounding name to the other half. Of the dogs of this race it has been already stated that they entertain notions prejudicial to the general safety of life and property. They never probably heard the noble axiom of Louis Blanc and his worthy compatriots—'ProprietÉ est le vol'—but they certainly acted on it so thoroughly that to obtain anything they valued and wanted, or that the headmen whose retainers they were wanted, they plundered or took life without hesitation. Witness the numerous cases of murder, gang robbery, etc., etc., which were, at the time referred to, continually occupying the attention of the courts throughout the Moplah range of country.

In illustration of the various amiable qualities of these Moplahs, my brother instances a case in which he had to give medical evidence. Early one morning the body, or more properly the mangled remains, of Lutchmon Sing, who has been already mentioned as one of the two principal headmen of the district, was brought to his door to be examined and reported on. He found that after the poor fellow had been knocked down and stunned by a blow on the head, proved by the smashing in of his cap, a severe wound of the scalp at the top and back part of his head, and a fracture of the skull, his body had been almost cut, transversely, into two parts. The spine, with some spinal and lumbar muscles, were all that held the two portions of it together. The muscles of the abdomen, as well as the lower part of the large lobe of the liver and the colon, were divided.

It was a piteous sight. Here was a fine young fellow in the prime of life, who was a favourite with all the Europeans, and with most of his own countrymen, brutally murdered, without any apparent cause. And what made everyone sorrow the more was the fact that he had been recently married to a Persian lady, whom, after a devoted court and worship of more than two years, he had at last succeeded in winning, and had brought home and located beyond the Moplah bounds in a stronghold situated in the hill country, but at no great distance, his holding being within the Manantoddy district.

It was evident that the division of the chief parts of the trunk had been effected by some sharp and powerful cutting instrument, most probably by one of those sharp toddy knives or bill-hooks which all jungle-men in India carry. The murder, it was supposed, had been perpetrated at the instigation of the rich Moplah named Saul Jan, whose lands were situated at no great distance from those of the murdered man, Lutchmon Sing. These two headmen, it was well known, had been at feud for a long time, ostensibly on account of some adjacent lands lying between their respective estates; but it was whispered that the murdered man's shoes had on one occasion (some two and a half years since) been found outside Saul Jan's door, and that he (Saul Jan), from circumstances to be hereafter explained, had not been able to return the visit. Be this as it may, the visitor's body was, after this occurrence, at the distance of time specified, found in the condition described.

A Hercules of a fellow, named Kulmuck, with a most villainous expression of countenance, who was an outdoor or field servant to Saul Jan, was with some others brought up before the Zillah Judge on suspicion of being the actual murderer, or at least of being a principal concerned in it. Some parts of this man's cloth were stained with blood, as was the handle and broad blade of his toddy-knife; his right hand was also stained with blood, and the palmar surface of the index and second finger of the right hand were slightly torn. It would appear that, even before he had washed the blood stains from his hand, or knife, or cloth, he had gone to the hut of a fellow-servant, a constant companion, and had there indulged himself so largely in drinking arrack that when the peons found him he was almost insensible, unable to speak, or stand; and lucky for them that he was in this state, as otherwise his toddy-knife would probably have been so used as to have saved some of them all further worldly care. Even without a weapon of any kind, manacled and pinioned, the peons shrank from him, and actually seemed afraid to touch him, so well were his strength and ferocity known.

When asked by the Zillah Judge how he accounted for the blood on his cloth, toddy-knife, and hand, he stated that, just before he had lain down in his comrade's hut, he had killed a shark, and had at the same time torn his hand. He further stated that parts of the shark would be found in his own hut, which was not more than a quarter of a mile distant from the one in which he had stayed to drink. Certain of the peons, who had been ordered to go to his hut, there found parts of a recently killed shark, which they brought into Court. The Judge asked the prisoner what took him away from his own hut, and for what purpose he went to the other man's dwelling. He said at once that he had heard of the chatty of arrack, and had gone there to get his share of it. The fishermen, who had seen the shark caught and brought home, were called into Court, and all agreed as to the time (about 6 a.m.) when Kulmuck had been seen with his prize. The peons had accurately noted the time when they found him all but insensible from drink, viz., about 5 p.m. They knew well that such a bullock of a fellow would not require more than three or four hours to sleep off a debauch, and allowing him to have been drinking two or three hours, there would remain no less than four hours to account for. The prisoner admitted having been in the fields, but he said that, instead of having been in that part of the jungle where the body was found, he had gone in another direction; and he mentioned some paddy fields through which he had passed, and others in which the men were ploughing with their buffaloes. On inquiry all these circumstances were found to be correct, and they considerably narrowed the time to be accounted for. Still there was an interval of some two hours, or at least an hour and a half, of which no sufficient or satisfactory explanation could be got at. The suspected man merely said that he was in the jungle, looking for a kind of lizard of which the native hakims make a certain kind of medicine, which they set great store by.

The Judge and the whole Court were at fault. The case was adjourned, and the prisoner remanded. The cloth and the toddy-knife, and the blood washed off by my brother into a broad-mouthed stoppered vial, with distilled water, were all placed in a box, and locked by the Judge with his own hands; then a broad piece of tape was placed round it, having the Zillah Court seal affixed at either end of it. The Judge then publicly placed the key of the box in my brother's hands. Finally, a peon carried the box into his private studio, or temporary laboratory. My brother then wished Mr. H. good-morning, and went home to set about the investigation which it was his duty to make.

This he found very laborious, as the modes of examination were necessarily repeated for the stains on the cloth, the handle of the knife, the blade, and the blood washed off into the stoppered bottle. The last named he examined first, being fearful of those changes which in a tropical climate take place very rapidly, and so greatly alter and distort the appearance of the blood globules. By his celerity he prevented any such change, and thus obtained capital specimens, which dried on the slides, and were available for evidence in Court.

To return to the Court. The things to be examined, having, as aforesaid, been consigned (under seal) to my brother's charge, and the prisoner having been placed in strong quarters, under ward changed every eight hours, while the Judge and his subordinates are seeking for further evidence, let us look into the history of the feud that, it is not denied, did exist between Lutchmon Sing and Saul Jan. This, it was said, arose from the rival claims of the parties to some lands situate between their respective holdings: their claims had been before the Court on several occasions, and had passed from the Zillah to the Higher Court. The case was supposed to be in train for decision, but scarcely for settlement, as it was known that both litigants were resolved to appeal to the Supreme Court. Thus the litigation might last for years. All this was publicly known, and it would satisfactorily account for the feud and the ill-feeling, but not for the murder; even Moplahs do not usually murder because they are legal opponents. The acknowledged feud was, therefore, regarded as insufficient to account for the extreme measure resorted to, and as a natural consequence suspicion took possession of the minds of those who were cognizant of the case that there had been some other unknown cause at work, and that to it the commission of the crime must be attributed. At the same time that this suspicion began to manifest itself, a whisper was breathed that there was such a cause. Spoken very cautiously at first, and in altogether a vague and indefinite way, after a time the whisper grew into something more tangible, assuming shape and form; it became at last a direct statement that the murdered man had violated the laws and usages of the Moplah race, inasmuch as he had married a wife of another nation, and had kept her away in a sequestered district of the hill country, where he had purchased another holding, and a dwelling, or rather fortress, which had formerly belonged to a Poligar chief, who had been a follower of Sevagee. This dwelling, it was further stated, he had repaired and embellished for the lady he had brought from beyond the sea. He had also furnished his house with all that his wife could wish for, and had garrisoned it with a number of servants and retainers (almost all of whom he had armed with firelocks and rifles, as well as with shields and scimitars), so that, his gates being strong and his walls high, he could defy any assault except that of heavy artillery.

But why had he taken all these precautions and spent so much money, and why had he taken his stand so far beyond the Moplah country? This proceeding was considered by the Moplahs, one and all, as an outrage; an insult to the men, and a crime of the deepest dye, as opposed to the recognised custom, for which nothing less than death could be awarded as sufficient punishment. Several Moplah men stated these opinions unreservedly in open Court; though all positively denied having administered the punishment, or having been instigators or accessories to it. After long-continued denials and evasions, and a most ingeniously protracted display of fencing, it was at last brought out in evidence that Lutchmon Sing, some two and a half years ago, had paid a visit to Saul Jan's house, and that his shoes had been left outside the door for some hours; this, it may be remembered, has been already noticed. After this fact had been established the Zillah Judge asked if Saul Jan, then under examination, had not, according to the Moplah customs, returned the visit of Lutchmon Sing. At this question Saul Jan broke out into the most ungovernable rage, cursing and swearing and wishing he could murder Lutchmon Sing over again. All this surprised the Judge, but he vainly attempted to obtain from the man, who had exhibited this paroxysm of rage, the meaning of it. He sullenly refused any explanation, accompanying his refusal by gross abuse, saying that he would not eat dirt to please the white Kafirs, the Shitan ka butchey logue, the heirs of jehanum, etc., and much more to the same purpose, no less obscene than malicious.

On inquiry from the old men about the Court who had been longest on that coast, and who best understood the Moplah modes of reasoning and feeling, it appeared that the rage of Saul Jan was excited by the knowledge that Lutchmon Sing had married, but had kept his wife beyond Moplah bounds, and had, moreover, so secured her that no one could gain access to her dwelling; and therefore Saul Jan considered that he had been defrauded of his rights in being denied access to the wife of Lutchmon Sing, after that Kafir (as Saul Jan expressed it) had made his (Saul Jan's) wife his servant.

In vain it was pointed out that as Lutchmon Sing's wife had come from beyond sea, she could not be a Moplah, and would not, therefore, be willing to submit to Moplah customs; this, and other such arguments intended to bring the savage to a more reasonable state of mind, only served to elicit fresh bursts of rage and envy, till it was deemed needful to remove him, and to place fetters on his limbs.

These exhibitions of fury and desire for revenge on account of a supposed injury not only showed that there was a sufficient cause to account for such a deed of violence, but pointed to the man who had committed or instigated it, and strongly confirmed the suspicions generally entertained. Still, there was nothing that could be regarded as legal proof. To confine the man, and look for further evidence, was all that could be done.

Evidence came somewhat unexpectedly to disprove part of Kulmuck's statement, but nothing positive to connect either him or his master with the murder. The evidence alluded to was my brother's report of his examination of cloth, knife, and blood washed off his hand. Each of these had been carefully examined chemically. Albumen, fibrin, and iron were shown to be present. Thus the chemical tests agreed with and confirmed the evidence afforded by the sensible tests—i.e., the sight, the odour, and the taste. These were decisive as to the presence of blood. But what blood? This was the question. Fortunately my brother possessed a good Smith and Beck microscope, and by means of the micrometer he adjusted precisely the magnifying power he employed. Then placing on a thin slide a minute portion of the matter stated to be shark's blood, the rolls of circular discs like those of human blood were evident; their diameter was also like that of human blood. Still, as the blood discs of some other animals resemble those of human blood very closely, it was scarcely safe to pronounce absolutely that the stains and clots were those of human blood. My brother simply stated their close resemblance to those of human blood, while at the same time he pronounced absolutely that they were not those of shark's blood. When this report had been read, the native Sheristadar, an intelligent and respectable Brahmin, asked permission of the Judge to inquire publicly of my brother how he was able to pronounce so decisively that the blood-stains were not those of the shark. In reply, my brother asked permission of the Judge to go home and fetch his microscope. This was at once granted. He also requested that during his absence a little shark's blood might be procured, if possible. As this might not be procurable until the next morning, it was arranged that my brother should be at the Court on the morrow at 10 a.m., and that the Sheristadar with the shark's tail, or any part from which a few drops of blood could be obtained, should be there at that time. Mr. H. also promised to be present shortly after the hour named. Next day, my brother with his microscope, and the Sheristadar with two fishermen and a whole shovel-nosed shark, were present in Court; and before my brother had set up or arranged the instrument, Mr. H. appeared.

The breathless anxiety and curiosity of the natives—I may say of everyone in Court—to see the microscopic experiment, can scarcely be described. The great majority of the natives looked on the whole thing as a kind of jadoo, or performance of magic; still, their curiosity was extreme. As soon as my brother had found the right focus of the instrument, he pulled out one of the hairs of his head, and placed it on a slide in the feet of the instrument, and then made the Sheristadar and one or two other natives in the Court observe it. Having thus convinced them of the power of the apparatus, and excited their wonder, he placed with the point of a needle on another slide a very minute portion of shark's blood. This, when sufficiently attenuated, showed the form and shape of the blood globules distinctly. My brother then requested the Judge to look at them. He did so, and was much gratified at being able to distinguish their form so clearly. After the Judge, the Sheristadar, the head writer (Mr. Pereira), and two or three others, looked at the shark's blood and saw the globules. All agreed that they were oval in shape, and not round. Then a little human blood, shown in the same way, was examined by the same persons, and all agreed that the globules were round, and not oval; and all were extremely pleased and gratified. Then a minute portion of the blood on the toddy knife was examined, and everyone perceived that the discs were round, and in rolls, just like the human blood that had been examined just before. The same opinion was given of blood taken from the cloth, and from the hand. Thus it was proved, beyond the possibility of doubt, that the statement of Kulmuck was false; and that the blood on the knife, and on the cloth, and also that from his hand, was not the blood of a shark. Mr. H. was delighted, and, after some compliments to my brother, said, 'You have rendered us an essential service.' The Sheristadar and all in Court were in a state of excitement and exaltation that cannot well be described. They seemed almost inclined to make a little deity of my brother, and their words were those of extravagant praise.

Before my brother left the Court, while talking with Mr. H., he asked him if he had examined the lady who, after all, seemed to be the cause of this crime. He said he had not done so for several reasons. It was, in the first place, unusual, and repugnant to the feelings of the natives, to bring native ladies into a court of justice; and, secondly, her dwelling was out of his district. 'Nevertheless,' returned my brother, 'in a case of such importance, I would overrule the native prejudices.' 'I will think it over,' said the Judge; and then they parted. The next day the Zillah Judge drove over to the Circuit Judge's house, and asked his opinion regarding the best course to be adopted towards the widow of the murdered man, who, it was said, was a Persian lady of good family, and who was, moreover, highly educated and accomplished, understood several Oriental languages, spoke English tolerably well, knew even something of French, and could read and write the Persian, Arabic, and Hindustani. She was also said to excel in music. 'If,' said Mr. V., 'this account be true, she must be a wonder; and if her personal charms correspond to her mental attainments, she must be a most bewitching creature, and quite equal to the far-famed Nour Jehan.' 'I hear,' said Mr. H., 'from my Sheristadar, who knows one of her female attendants, that she is surpassingly lovely, with a faultless figure, and silken tresses that she can sit on; she has the most beautiful eyes in the world.'

'Upon my word,' observed Mr. V., 'your informant has painted a most enchanting picture. I feel quite envious and grieved that I'm not the Zillah Judge. You cannot surely drag such a superlative creature into Court; you will have to take your Court to her. Pray don't do it personally, or perhaps Mrs. H. might not be pleased; but under any circumstances you must write officially to have our permission in this case of difficulty, and I am sure A. and H. will concur with me in the precept for you to proceed to her house or castle, and to take down her deposition, if she has anything to state.'

Mr. H. accordingly sent in the official letter asking the opinion of the Circuit Judges, which was unanimous, and found expression in a precept directing Mr. H. to proceed to the lady's house with as little delay as possible. On receipt of the precept Mr. H. sent a mounted peon with a letter to the widow of Lutchmon Sing, asking politely if it would be convenient for her to make such statements as the ends of justice demanded, or, if she had no statement to make, to answer such questions as it might be needful to put to her in reference to her present unhappy position, Mr. H. adding that, to save her feelings as much as possible, he would not ask her to attend at the Court, but would himself, with his writers and needful subordinates, attend at her house, and there take down her deposition. In reply to this letter, Mr. H. received a beautifully written note in Persian to the effect that AminÈ, the wife of the late Lutchmon Sing, would be ready to see the Zillah Judge whenever he might think proper to pay her a visit, and would answer any questions he might put to her. She moreover begged the Judge to receive her grateful thanks for sparing her appearance in Court.

The next forenoon, about 10 a.m., Mr. H. and his subordinates, who had left Tollicherry by 7 p.m. the evening previous, reached the lady's house. They found a sumptuous breakfast prepared for them, both in the European and native fashion, while the lady's butler attended to wait on them with a dozen servants. Before the Judge sat down to table, a female servant presented him with another note, begging him to excuse her absence until the business of the Court called for it, her sorrow and the Eastern customs being, she hoped, sufficient to extenuate any apparent want of hospitality. She added that she had given strict orders to her butler, and to all her people, to supply anything and everything that might be called for. When the Judge had finished breakfast, and his subordinates had done ample honour to an excellent collation of curries, pillaus, etc., etc., Mr. H. was shown into a large apartment or hall, with a paved courtyard and fountain which fell into a small tank or basin. The whole space was well covered in, so that the sunbeams could not directly penetrate, while open verandas all round gave abundance of light. In this courtyard Mr. H. established his Court, and here, shortly after he had announced that he was prepared, the lovely widow of poor Lutchmon Sing made her appearance. An elegant cushion or settee had already been placed opposite to that of the Judge for her accommodation. As soon as she entered the hall she made a profound obeisance to the Judge, crossing her arms on her bosom. The whole Court, including the Judge, rose up on the lady's entrance, and he, returning her obeisance, requested her to occupy the cushion prepared for her. She did so, at the same time so arranging her veil that she only showed her face partially, yet sufficiently to enable her to converse or reply to questions without difficulty. Enough of the breathing picture was, however, disclosed to excite profound admiration, and to charm everyone present. The administration of the Mussulman oath, usual inquiries as to name, station, dwelling-place, etc., having been answered in a sad though sweet voice, Mr. H. asked if the witness knew of any circumstance that could help him to fix the crime on any particular individual. The same sad, sweet voice replied that a thick-set, powerfully made man, whom she would recognise if she saw again, had on two occasions, when her husband was absent, endeavoured to force an entrance into her house. This man was at the head of a score or more armed men, and he would on both occasions have obtained an entrance had not the noise and scuffle at the outer gate given her servants time to secure the main entrance, every other means of entering being always barred. On both attempts some shots and sword-cuts were exchanged, but no lives were lost, though some men on both sides were wounded. The leader, after the last attempt had failed, had used the most horrid language, had threatened to have the life blood of every man in the place, and particularly that of Lutchmon Sing. She and several of her servants had heard these threats; she had, though at some risk, seen the man who used these words, having observed him through an iron grating, while her head and face were enveloped in a dark cambly, so that she could not be known or scarcely seen by those outside.

A day or two after these men had departed, her husband had returned, and she had informed him of all that had happened in his absence. 'He knew at once who it was that had attacked his house; he also told me the object of it, and of the vile and singular customs obtaining amongst his countrymen. I became dreadfully alarmed, and entreated him not to go about alone. I foresaw what would be likely to happen, and told him that such a desperate and determined ruffian as this man, whom he called Saul Jan, would have him murdered, if he were not himself the murderer.' The lady's statements were carefully taken down, and signed by herself and the Judge; then several of the servants of the house were examined, and their testimony confirmed that of the lady. They also said that they should know the leader of the band—the man who had used the threats and the bad language—if they saw him again. This evidence was also taken down and signed and countersigned. Mr. H. prepared to then take his departure. After many compliments, thanking the bereaved wife not merely for her kindness and hospitality to himself and whole Court, but for the clear and collected manner in which she had given her testimony, he declared that under such painful conditions her conduct was truly admirable. As he made his bow before getting into his palankeen he said: 'It is a pity that your husband did not take your advice.'

AminÈ, now that the examination was over, had for a time yielded to her sorrow: her head was bowed upon her bosom, her tears were falling fast, and her women were doing what they could to soothe and console her; but when she heard Mr. H.'s remark, she stood up at once, and said, 'Sir, my husband was a brave man, and despised the threats of such a villain as this Saul Jan. As he said himself, he would not be prevented from going about for any man's threats; he was as brave and noble as the other was cowardly and base. But,' clasping her hands and looking up to heaven with her beautiful eyes streaming with tears, she said, 'Allah is great, and what He ordains, we, His creatures, must endure.' She then, with a queenly inclination of her head, retired to her own apartments. Mr. H. thought he had never seen such a beautiful creature—so quiet, so sensible, and so self-controlled while she had to give her evidence; so sensitive, so full of grief, and yet so full of fire for him she had loved and lost.

The reader may perhaps wish to know what eventually became of this beautiful and unhappy lady. Her husband on his marriage had made her heir, in case of his death, of all he possessed. As soon as she could obtain purchasers for her lands and tenements, and various kinds of property, she returned to Persia. From the time of her husband's murder, up to the time of her departure for her own country, she never either saw or spoke to any one of the numerous suitors who endeavoured in every possible way to pay court and worship to her.

After her return to Persia, she so arranged her worldly possessions as to leave herself but a third part of her income; the larger she expended in charities to the sick and poor, whom she visited daily. A certain portion of her means she expended in building a handsome tomb, standing in an extensive garden of roses and other sweet-smelling flowers. By means of reservoirs and basins, fountains were always throwing water; and by means of marble conduits for irrigation, and a score of gardeners, everything was preserved in the most perfect order.

Before she quitted Tollicherry, she had obtained possession of the mangled remains of her husband, and had them embalmed, all but the heart; this she had so burnt, under the guidance of an able chemist, that the form of the organ only remained in the substance of a thin kind of charcoal. The embalmed body she placed in a marble coffin or sarcophagus, on which she placed, in an exquisitely carved marble vase or urn, the representative atoms of her lover's heart. On the top of the block of black marble that supported her husband's remains, and close beside it, she placed an empty coffin and an empty vase. In this tomb AminÈ spent a large portion of her time, not only in prayer, nor even in indulging her incurable sorrow, but in communing with her own soul, and in striving, by reading and study, to school herself to suffer with uncomplaining fortitude. Her garden and her flowers, when the heat would permit, afforded her, morning and evening, some resource. Her large charities, her embroidery with her maidens, and sometimes her lute, enabled her to bear existence for some few years; but the shock she had experienced had been more than she could long bear. She pined away daily, and at last sunk down, without any special disease, to die. She evidently rejoiced at her release from sorrow, and the last words she breathed were, 'I shall now go to fill the vacant space beside my lord.' She had, long before, repeatedly enjoined her people that, after burning her heart without access of air, the charcoal left should be placed with that of her husband, which injunction was held sacred, and was carried out to the letter. She died equally beloved and lamented by all around her, rich and poor, and was long remembered as the broken flower of Persia. Around the tomb where lie the relics of this unhappy pair innumerable small lamps are ever burning, and every day at sunrise young Persian maidens deck the double urns with flowers.

We now return to Tollicherry, where Saul Jan and Kulmuck lie under sentence of death. After the identification of Saul Jan as the leader of the attacks on the distant house of Lutchmon Sing, the circumstantial evidence was so strong, and so completely confirmatory of the previous suspicions, that it may be said no one entertained the slightest moral doubt as to the guilt of these two men.

Still, the one link in the evidence was wanting; the perpetration of the murder was not actually brought home to these ruffians. This evidence was obtained in rather a singular and unlooked-for way. One day, about 3 p.m., just after my brother had dined, he was called into his veranda to attend to a low-caste Moplah man, who, in consequence of drinking, had fallen from a toddy-tree, and had smashed the upper arm close up to the joint. The destruction of the soft parts, and the splintering of the bone, were so terrible that there could be no chance of saving the man's life unless the limb was removed at the shoulder-joint. This was clear; but how was it to be done? The practised operators at our hospitals in England have trained and skilful assistants to control a large vessel or take up a smaller one, or render aid in any way that can be wanted. My brother had no one to assist him except a poor half caste Portuguese, who had never seen an operation in his life. He was willing, but could do no more than steady or support the crushed arm or hand as occasion required. This being so, and the man having in a great measure been sobered by the fright and the fall, and his nervous system not having suffered as much as might have been expected, my brother determined to operate at once. In order to secure the main artery (the brachial), my brother first passed a curved needle, armed with strong silk thread, from the anterior part of the wound close to that portion of the splintered bone near to the socket, and carried the needle and the ligature between the bone and the vessels and great nerves, and brought out the point through the integument so as to include about three-quarters of an inch in breadth. Over this, by means of the handle and the point of the needle, the ligature was turned backward and forwards, in the shape of a figure of eight, with sufficient firmness to restrain hÆmorrhage completely. This having been effected, my brother rapidly removed the limb, having only to tie two vessels—the anterior and posterior circumflex; but still he was in considerable difficulty as to where he should get his covering—or, as it is termed professionally, his flap—from. He had tied the main vessel secundem artem before he removed the temporary control, and had then completed the removal of the limb. Then he cut from the severed limb a portion of the uninjured muscular tissue and integument sufficient, with part of the deltoid muscle and integument, to form the required covering. The case did well; union by the first intention took place between the portions of the deltoid and the piece cut from the inner and back part of the upper arm.

My brother kept the man in his own house for about a fortnight, and was very kind to him. The rude creature felt this, and knew that my brother had saved his life; so, before he was discharged, he asked to speak with him privately. My brother turned the servants out of the room, and then told him to speak freely.

'Nay, Saib; master has kept my life for me this time; but if I tell master, will master save me again?'

At first my brother thought the man wanted to beg something, and it was some time before he found out that his patient was really afraid to say what he desired, unless protection could be assured to him. He repeatedly said: 'Master no take care, those people kill me.'

'Nonsense,' said my brother, 'what are you afraid of? Those people, who are those people?'

'My people, the Moplah people.'

A ray of light at once shot across my brother's mind. 'Then,' said he, 'you have something to tell me about Lutchmon Sing's murder?' The man nodded his head, but did not speak.

'What, Timbuckjee, you don't mean, I hope, that you had anything to do with that!'

'No, Saib, nothing at all; but I see something.'

'You see something! what do you mean? let me hear.'

'No, Saib, master never tell keep my life, how can I tell master?'

'I can't keep your life, but the Judge can if you give evidence that will enable him to punish these bad men.'

'Nay, Saib, master promise, then I tell Master Judge. I not know him; he perhaps no remember.'

'Well, Timbuckjee, I will see the Judge and get his promise, or I will try to get it.'

'Master Judge give promise in writing, then he no forget. He give word promise he perhaps no remember.'

My brother could not help smiling at the caution and cunning of Mr. Timbuckjee; but as the matter was of such importance he wrote a note at once to Mr. H., stating that he had reason to believe that the man who had fallen from the toddy-tree, and had so crushed his arm, could say something that would enable him to convict the murderers of Lutchmon Sing; but that the man was in such fear of the Moplah people that he refused to speak unless he, the Judge, would grant him a written promise to protect him.

After some delay Mr. H. went to my brother's house and saw Timbuckjee. But he seemed little inclined to make any statement of any value, till a native vakeel was sent for, who, after a great deal of trouble, at last made him understand that if he gave evidence to enable the law to act the law would protect him.

At last Mr. H. said: 'If I give you a belt, and make you one of the Zillah Court peons, will that content you?'

'Yes, Saib, that will keep my life. You give me belt, and make me peon of your Court; they never kill me. Yes, I will tell.' He then went on to say, that on the very day Lutchmon Sing was killed, he, Timbuckjee, was following his business tapping palms, for which purpose he had climbed up a lofty tree, and was engaged fastening an empty chatty to the part which he had incised. When he had finished his work he was about to descend, but he did not do so, having observed two men at some little distance off, standing at the foot of another lofty palm, engaged in earnest conversation. He soon recognised the men in question to be Saul Jan and Kulmuck. Concealed as he was by the leaves and branches, and remaining perfectly still, he himself remained wholly unobserved, while he had a full opportunity of watching all that passed between the men named. He was not near enough to hear anything, but judging from their behaviour it seemed to him that Saul Jan was urging Kulmuck to accede to some proposition that had previously been made to him, but to which he steadily refused to consent. At last he seemed to yield, and then he held out his hand, into which Saul Jan counted 20 Rs.; these Kulmuck tied up, after again counting them, in a corner of his cloth, and then parted from Saul Jan, who took the way to his own house, while Kulmuck also went to his hut, where he remained about half an hour; then he left it and returned to the jungle. Timbuckjee did not dare to follow Kulmuck too nearly lest he should be discovered, but he kept him in sight till he entered the path that led to Lutchmon Sing's dwelling. There he lost sight of him. In about an hour he again saw Kulmuck, running in the direction of the hut where he remained to drink, and where he was found with his bloody cloth and knife. While he was running Timbuckjee observed that his cloth was stained.

This statement, having been sworn to after the Moplah fashion, was taken down, and Timbuckjee made to vouch for its truth by affixing his mark to it. The Judge then countersigned it. Now as no money had been found on Kulmuck's person when he was captured, it was clear that he must have deposited it somewhere else, and if Timbuckjee's story was true, he had been nowhere, after having received the blood-money from Saul Jan, but to his own hut; consequently, then, the rupees should be found there.

To Kulmuck's hut therefore at once went the Judge, my brother, several subordinates of the Court, a posse of peons, and some coolies with mattocks and picks. The whole floor of the hut was examined without discovering any sign of earth having been recently turned up; nevertheless it was dug up all over without avail. The whole of the compound was then treated in the same way, still without finding anything: doubt was beginning to attach to Timbuckjee's statement, when someone said: 'Try the roof.' In less than two minutes afterwards there was a shout, and one of the peons drew forth from the thatch a piece of rag evidently containing rupees. The little parcel was immediately handed to the Judge, who opened it before all present, and counted out the number of rupees which Timbuckjee had seen Saul Jan count out to Kulmuck.

This discovery proved the truth of all that Timbuckjee had said, and at the same time proved the guilt of Saul Jan and Kulmuck. I am glad to say that both these ruffians were sentenced to be hanged. Great efforts to save Saul Jan were made by the Moplahs, who declared that he had been defrauded of his undoubted rights, and that Lutchmon Sing deserved his fate. And nothing would convince these brutal and savage disciples of a brutal and sensual creed that the murder deserved capital punishment. They threatened resistance, used very violent language, and seemed altogether so highly irritated and incensed that three companies of the European regiment stationed at Canamore were marched from thence to Tollicherry in order to overawe them, and along with the three companies half a battery of Horse Artillery. These decisive and judicious measures had the effect desired; the would-be rebels thought ball cartridges, grape-shot, and fixed bayonets unpleasant things to face, and that under the circumstances discretion was the better part of valour. The execution, therefore, took place without either disturbance or bloodshed.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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