She, says Bernier, whom I saw burn herself, when I parted from Surat to travel into Persia, in the presence of Monsieur Chardin of Paris, and of many English and Dutch, was of a middle age, and not unhandsome. To represent unto you the undaunted cheerfulness that appeared in her countenance, the resolution with which she marched, washed herself, spoke to the people; the confidence with which she looked upon us, viewed her little cabin, made up of very dry millet-straw and small wood, went into this cabin, and sat down upon the pile, and took her husband’s head into her lap, and a torch into her own hand, and kindled the cabin, whilst I know not how many Brahmans were busy in kindling the fire round about: To represent to you, I say, all this as it ought, is not possible for me; I can at present scarce believe it myself, though it be but a few days since I saw it.

They strip her ornaments away.—I. p. 8.

She went out again to the river, and taking up some water in her hands, muttered some prayers, and offered it to the sun. All her ornaments were then taken from her; and her armlets were broken, and chaplets of white flowers were put upon her neck and hands. Her hair was tucked up with five combs; and her forehead was marked with clay in the same manner as that of her husband—Stavorinus.

Around her neck they leave
The marriage-knot alone.—I. p. 8.

When the time for consummating the marriage is come, they light the fire Homam with the wood of Ravasiton. The Bramin blesses the former, which being done, the bridegroom takes three handfuls of rice, and throws it on the bride’s head, who does the same to him. Afterwards the bride’s father clothes her in a dress according to his condition, and washes the bridegroom’s feet; the bride’s mother observing to pour out the water. This being done, the father puts his daughter’s hand in his own, puts water into it, some pieces of money, and, giving it to the bridegroom, says, at the same time, I have no longer any thing to do with you, and I give you up to the power of another. The Tali, which is a ribbon with a golden head hanging at it, is held ready; and, being shewn to the company, some prayers and blessings are pronounced; after which the bridegroom takes it, and hangs it about the bride’s neck. This knot is what particularly secures his possession of her; for, before he had had the Tali on, all the rest of the ceremonies might have been made to no purpose; for it has sometimes happened, that, when the bridegroom was going to fix it on, the bride’s father has discovered his not being satisfied with the bridegroom’s gift, when another, offering more, has carried off the bride with her father’s consent. But when once the Tali is put on, the marriage is indissoluble; and, whenever the husband dies, the Tali is burnt along with him, to shew that the marriage bands are broke. Besides these particular ceremonies, the people have notice of the wedding by a Pandal, which is raised before the bride’s door some days before. The whole concludes with an entertainment which the bride’s father gives to the common friends; and during this festivity, which continues five days, alms are given to the poor, and the fire Homam is kept in. The seventh day, the new-married couple set out for the bridegroom’s house, whither they frequently go by torch-light. The bride and bridegroom are carried in a sedan, pass through the chief streets of the city, and are accompanied by their friends, who are either on horseback or mounted on elephants.—A. Roger.

They force her on, they bind her to the dead.—I. p. 9.

’Tis true, says Bernier, that I have seen some of them, which, at the sight of the pile and the fire, appeared to have some apprehension, and that, perhaps, would have gone back. Those demons, the Bramins, that are there with their great sticks, astonish them, and hearten them up, or even thrust them in; as I have seen it done to a young woman that retreated five or six paces from the pile, and to another, that was much disturbed when, she saw the fire take hold of her clothes, these executioners thrusting her in with their long poles.

At Lahor, I saw a very handsome and a very young woman burnt; I believe she was not above twelve years of age. This poor unhappy creature appeased rather dead than alive when she came near the pile; she shook and wept bitterly. Meanwhile, three or four of these executioners, the Bramins, together with an old hag that held her under the arm, thrust her on, and made her sit down upon the wood; and, lest she should run away, they tied her legs and hands; and so they burnt her alive. I had enough to do to contain myself for indignation.—Bernier.

Pietro Della Valle conversed with a widow, who was about to burn herself by her own choice. She told him, that, generally speaking, women were not forced to burn themselves; but sometimes, among people of rank, when a young woman, who was handsome, was left a widow, and in danger of marrying again, (which is never practised among them, because of the confusion and disgrace which are inseparable from such a thing,) or of falling into other irregularities, then, indeed, the relations of the husband, if they are at all tenacious of the honour of the family, compel her to burn herself, whether she likes it or no, merely to prevent the inconveniences which might take place.

Dellon also, whom I consider as one of the best travellers in the East, expressly asserts, that widows are burnt there “de gré, ou de force. L’on n’en voit que trop qui aprés avoir desiré et demandé la mort avec un courage intrepide, et aprés avoir obtenu et acheté la permission de se brûler, ont tremblé à là veuë du bucher, se sont repenties, mais trop tard, de leur imprudence, et ont fait d’inutiles efforts pour se retracter. Mais lorsque cela arrive, bien loin que les Bramenes soient touchés d’aucune pieté, ils lient cruellement ces malheureuses, et les brûlent par force, sans avoir aucun egard à leurs plaintes, ni à leurs cris.”—Tom. i. p. 138.

It would be easy to multiply authorities upon this point. Let it suffice to mention one important historical fact: When the great Alboquerque had established himself it Goa, he forbade these accursed sacrifices, the women extolled him for it as their benefactor and deliverer, (Commentarios de Alb. ii. 20,) and no European in India was ever so popular, or so revered by the natives. Yet, if we are to believe the anti-missionares, none but fools, fanatics, and pretenders to humanity, would wish to deprive the Hindoo women of the right of burning themselves! “It may be useful (says Colonel Mark Wilks,) to examine the reasonableness of interfering with the most exceptionable of all their institutions. It has been thought an abomination not to be tolerated, that a widow should immolate herself on the funeral pile of her deceased husband. But what judgement should we form of the Hindoo, who (if any of our institutions admitted the parallel) should forcibly pretend to stand between a Christian and the hope of eternal salvation? And shall we not hold him to be a driveller in politics and morals, a fanatic in religion, and a pretender in humanity, who would forcibly wrest this hope from the Hindoo widow?”—Historical Sketches of the South of India, vol. i. p. 499.

Such opinions, and such language, may safely be left to the indignation and pity which they cannot fail to excite. I shall only express my astonishment, that any thing so monstrous, and so miserably futile, should have proceeded from a man of learning, great good sense, and general good feelings, as Colonel Wilks evidently appears to be.

One drops, another plunges in.—I. p. 10.

When Bernier was passing from Amad-Avad to Agra, there came news to him in a borough, where the caravan rested under the shade, (staying for the cool of the evening to march on their journey,) that a woman was then upon the point of burning herself with the body of her husband. I presently rose, says he, and ran to the place where it was to be done, which was a great pit, with a pile of wood raised in it, whereon I saw laid a dead corpse, and a woman, which, at a distance, seemed to me pretty fair, sitting near it on the same pile, besides four or five Bramins, putting the fire to it from all sides; five women of a middle age, and well enough dressed, holding one another by the hand, and dancing about the pit, and a great crowd of people, men and women, looking on. The pile of wood was presently all on fire, because store of oil and butter had been thrown upon it: and I saw, at the same time, through the flames, that the fire took hold of the clothes of the woman, that were imbued with well-scented oils, mingled with powder of sandal and saffron. All this I saw, but observed not that the woman was at all disturbed; yea, it was said, that she had been heard to pronounce, with great force, these two words, five, two, to signify, according to the opinion of those that hold the soul’s transmigration, that this was the fifth time she had burnt herself with the same husband, and that there remained but two more for perfection; as if she had at that time this remembrance, or some prophetical spirit. But here ended not this infernal tragedy: I thought it was only by way of ceremony that these five women sung and danced about the pit; but I was altogether surprised when I saw, that the flame having taken hold of the clothes of one of them, she cast herself, with her head foremost, into the pit; and that after her, another, being overcome by the flame and the smoke, did the like; and my astonishment redoubled afterwards, when I saw that the remaining three took one another again by the hand, continued their dance without any apparent fear; and that at length they precipitated themselves, one after another, into the fire, as their companions had done. I learnt that these had been five slaves, who, having seen their mistress extremely afflicted at the sickness of her husband, and heard her promise him, that she would not survive him, but burn herself with him, were so touched with compassion and tenderness towards this their mistress, that they engaged themselves in a promise to follow her in her resolution, and to burn themselves with her.—Bernier.

This excellent traveller relates an extraordinary circumstance which occurred at one of these sacrifices. A woman was engaged in some love-intrigues with a young Mahommedan, her neighbour, who was a tailor, and could play finely upon the tabor. This woman, in the hopes she had of marrying this young man, poisoned her husband, and presently came away to tell the tailor, that it was time to be gone together, as they had projected, or else she should be obliged to burn herself. The young man, fearing lest he might be entangled in a mischievous business, flatly refused her. The woman, not at all surprised at it, went to her relations, and advertised them of the sudden death of her husband, and openly protested that she would not survive him, but burn herself with him. Her kindred, well satisfied with so generous a resolution, and the great honour she did to the whole family, presently had a pit made and filled with wood, exposing the corpse upon it, and kindling the fire. All being prepared, the woman goes to embrace and bid farewell to all her kindred that were there about the pit, among whom was also the tailor, who had been invited to play upon the tabor that day, with many others of that sort of men, according to the custom of the country. This fury of a woman being also come to this young man, made sign as if she would bid him farewell with the rest; but, instead of gently embracing him, she taketh him with all her force about his collar, pulls him to the pit, and tumbleth him, together with herself, into the ditch, where they both were soon dispatched.—Bernier.

The Hindoos sometimes erect a chapel on the spot where one of these sacrifices has been performed, both on account of the soul of the deceased, and as a trophy of her virtue. I remember to have seen one of these places, where the spot on which the funeral pile had been erected was inclosed and covered with bamboos, formed into a kind of bower planted with flowering creepers. The inside was set round with flowers, and at one end, there was an image.—Crawfurd.

Some of the Yogees, who smear themselves with ashes, use none but what they collect from funeral piles,—human ashes! Pietro Della Valle.

From a late investigation, it appears, that the number of women who sacrifice themselves within thirty miles round Calcutta every year, is, on an average, upwards of two hundred. The Pundits have already been called on to produce the sanction of their Shasters for this custom. The passages exhibited are vague and general in their meaning, and differently interpreted by the same casts. Some sacred verses commend the practice, but none command it; and the Pundits refer once more to custom. They have, however, intimated, that if government will pass a regulation, amercing by fine every Brahmin who attends a burning, or every Zemindar who permits him to attend it, the practice cannot possibly long continue; for that the ceremony, unsanctified by the presence of the priests, will lose its dignity and consequence in the eyes of the people.

The civilized world may expect soon to hear of the abolition of this opprobrium of a Christian administration, the female sacrifice; which has subsisted, to our certain knowledge, since the time of Alexander the Great.—Claudius Buchanan.

This practice, however, was manifestly unknown when the Institutes of Menu were written. Instructions are there given for the conduct of a widow: “Let her,” it is said, “emaciate her body, by living voluntarily on pure flowers, roots, and fruit; but let her not, when her lord is deceased, even pronounce the name of another man. Let her continue till death forgiving all injuries, performing harsh duties, avoiding every sensual pleasure, and cheerfully practising the incomparable rules of virtue, which have been followed by such women as were devoted to one only husband. Many thousands of Brahmins, having avoided sensuality from their early youth, and having left no issue in their families, have ascended nevertheless to heaven; and, like those abstemious men, a virtuous wife ascends to heaven, though she have no child, if, after the decease of her lord, she devote herself to pious austerity: but a widow, who, from a wish to bear children, slights her deceased husband by marrying again, brings disgrace on herself here below, and shall be excluded from the seat of her lord.”—Inst. of Menu, ch. 5, 157-161.

Second marriages were permitted to men.—Ibid. 167, 8-9.

Lo! Arvalan appears.—II. p. 11.

Many believe that some souls are sent back to the spot where their bodies were burnt, or where their ashes are preserved, to wait there until the new bodies they are destined to occupy be ready for their reception. This appears to correspond with an opinion of Plato, which, with many other tenets of that philosopher, was adopted by the early Christians; and an ordinance of the Romish church is still extant, prohibiting having lights or making merriment in church-yards at night, lest they should disturb the souls that might come thither.—Crawfurd.

According to the Danish missionaries, the souls of those who are untimely slain wander about as diabolical spectres, doing evil to mankind, and possessing those whom they persecute.—Niecamp. i. 10. § 14.

The inhabitants of the hills near Rajamahall believe, that when God sends a messenger to summon a person to his presence, if the messenger should mistake his object, and carry off another, he is desired by the Deity to take him away; but as the earthly mansion of his soul must be decayed, it is destined to remain mid-way between heaven and earth, and never can return to the presence of God. Whoever commits homicide without a divine order, and whoever is killed by a snake, as a punishment for some concealed crime, will be doomed to the same state of wandering; and whoever hangs himself will wander eternally with a rope about his neck.—Asiat. Researches.

Pope Benedict XII. drew up a list of 117 heretical opinions held by the Armenian Christians, which he sent to the king of Armenia,—instead of any other assistance, when that prince applied to him for aid against the Mahomedans. This paper was first published by Bernino, and exhibits a curious mixture of mythologies. One of their opinions was, that the souls of the adult wander about in the air till the day of judgment; neither hell, nor the heavenly, nor the terrestrial paradise, being open to them till that day shall have past.

Davenant, in one of his plays, speculates upon such a state of wandering as the lot of the soul after death:—

I must to darkness go, hover in clouds, Or in remote untroubled air, silent As thoughts, or what is uncreated yet; Or I must rest in some cold shade, and shall Perhaps ne’er see that everlasting spring Of which philosophy so long has dreamt, And seems rather to wish than understand. Love and Honour.

I know no other author who has so often expressed to those who could understand him, his doubts respecting a future state, and how burthensome he felt them.

But I, all naked feeling and raw life.—II. p. 13.

By the vital souls of those men who have committed sins in the body, another body, composed of nerves, with five sensations, in order to be susceptible of torment, shall certainly be assumed after death; and being intimately united with those minute nervous particles, according to their distribution, they shall feel in that new body the pangs inflicted in each case by the sentence of Yama.—Inst. of Menu.

Henry More, the Platonist, has two applicable stanzas in his Song of the Soul:—

Like to a light fast lock’d in lanthorn dark, Whereby by night our wary steps we guide In slabby streets, and dirty channels mark, Some weaker rays through the black top do glide, And flusher streams, perhaps, from horny side; But when we’ve past the peril of the way, Arrived at home, and laid that case aside,— The naked light how clearly doth it ray, And spread its joyful beams as bright as summer’s day.
Even so the soul, in this contracted state, Confined to these strait instruments of sense, More dull and narrowly doth operate; At this hole hears,—the sight must ray from thence,— Here tastes, there smells;—but when she’s gone from hence, Like naked lamp she is one shining sphere, And round about has perfect cognoscence, Whatever in her horizon doth appear. She is one orb of sense, all eye, all airy ear.

Amid the uncouth allegory, and more uncouth language, of this strange series of poems, a few passages are to be found of exceeding beauty. Milton, who was the author’s friend, had evidently read them.

Undying as I am!—II. p. 12.

The Soul is not a thing of which a man may say, it hath been, it is about to be, or is to be hereafter; for it is a thing without birth; it is ancient, constant, and eternal, and is not to be destroyed in this its mortal frame. How can the man who believeth that this thing is incorruptible, eternal, inexhaustible, and without birth, think that he can either kill or cause it to be killed! As a man throweth away old garments and putteth on new, even so the Soul, having quitted its old mortal frames, entereth into others which are new. The weapon divideth it not, the fire burneth it not, the water corrupteth it not, the wind drieth it not away;—for it is indivisible, inconsumable, incorruptible, and is not to be dried away;—it is eternal, universal, permanent, immoveable; it is invisible, inconceivable, and unalterable.—Bhagvat Geeta.

Mariataly.—II. p. 15.

Mariatale, as Sonnerat spells the name, was wife of the penitent Chamadaguini, and mother of Parassourama, who was, in part, an incarnation of Veeshno. This goddess, says Sonnerat, commanded the elements, but could not preserve that empire longer than her heart was pure. One day, while she was collecting water out of a tank, and, according to her custom, was making a bowl of earth to carry it to the house, she saw on the surface of the water, some figures of Grindovers (Glendoveers) which were flying over her head. Struck with their beauty, her heart admitted an impure thought, and the earth of the bowl dissolved. From that time she was obliged to make use of an ordinary vessel. This discovered to Chamadaguini that his wife had deviated from purity; and, in the excess of his rage, he ordered his son to drag her to the place where criminals were executed, and to behead her. The order was executed; but Parassourama was so much afflicted for the loss of his mother, that Chamadaguini told him to take up the body, and fasten the head upon it, and repeat a prayer (which he taught him for that purpose) in her ear, and then his mother would come to life again. The son ran eagerly to perform what he was ordered, but, by a very singular blunder, he joined the head of his mother to the body of a Parichi, who had been executed for her crimes; a monstrous union, which gave to this woman the virtues of a goddess, and the vices of a criminal. The goddess, becoming impure by such a mixture, was driven from her house, and committed all kinds of cruelties. The Deverkels, perceiving the destruction she made, appeased her by giving her power to cure the small-pox, and promising that she should be implored for that disorder. Mariatale is the great goddess of the Parias;—to honour her, they have a custom of dancing with several pots of water on their heads, placed one above the other: These pots are adorned with the leaves of the Margosies, a tree consecrated to her.

It was my hour of folly.—II. p. 13.

Among the qualities required for the proper execution of public business, mention is made, “That a man must be able to keep in subjection his lust, his anger, his avarice, his folly, and his pride.” The folly there specified is not to be understood in the usual sense of the word in an European idiom, as a negative quality, or the mere want of sense, but as a kind of obstinately stupid lethargy, or perverse absence of mind, in which the will is not altogether passive: It seems to be a weakness peculiar to Asia, for we cannot find a term by which to express the precise idea in the European languages. It operates somewhat like the violent impulse of fear, under which men will utter falsehoods totally incompatible with each other, and utterly contrary to their own opinion, knowledge, and conviction; and, it may be added also, their inclination and intention.

A very remarkable instance of this temporary frenzy happened lately in the supreme Court of Judicature at Calcutta, where a man (not an idiot) swore, upon a trial, that he was no kind of relation to his brother, who was then in Court, and who had constantly supported him from his infancy; and that he lived in a house by himself, for which he paid the rent from his own pocket, when it was proved that he was not worth a rupee, and when the person in whose house he had always resided stood at the bar close to him.

Another conjecture, and that exceedingly acute and ingenious, has been started upon this folly, that it may mean the deception which a man permits to be imposed on his judgment by his passions, as acts of rapacity and avarice are often committed by men who ascribe them to prudence and a just assertion of their own right; malice and rancour pass for justice, and brutality for spirit. This opinion, when thoroughly examined, will very nearly tally with the former; for all the passions, as well as fear, have an equal efficacy to disturb and distort the mind: But to account for the folly here spoken of as being the offspring of the passions, instead of drawing a parallel between it and the impulses of those passions, we must suppose the impulses to act with infinitely more violence upon an Asiatic mind than we can ever have seen exemplified in Europe. It is, however, something like the madness so inimitably delineated in the Hero of Cervantes, sensible enough upon some occasions, and at the same time completely wild, and unconscious of itself upon others; and that, too, originally produced by an effort of the will, though, in the end, overpowering and superseding its functions.—Halhed.

The little songsters of the sky
Sit silent in the sultry hour.—IV. p. 29.

The tufted lark, fixed to this fruitful land, says Sonnini, speaking of Egypt, never forsakes it; it seems, however, that the excessive heat annoys him. You may see these birds, as well as sparrows, in the middle of the day, with their bills half open, and the muscles of their breasts agitated, breathing with difficulty, and as if they panted for respiration. The instinct which induces them to prefer those means of subsistence which are easily obtained, and in abundance, although attended with some suffering, resembles the mind of man, whom a thirst for riches engages to brave calamities and dangers without number.

The Watchman.—V. 35.

The watchmen are provided with no offensive weapons excepting a sling; on the contrary, they continue the whole day standing in one single position, upon a pillar of clay raised about ten feet, where they remain bellowing continually, that they may terrify, without hurting, the birds who feed upon the crop. Every considerable field contains several such centinels, stationed at different corners, who repeat the call from one to another so incessantly, that the invaders have hardly any opportunity of making good a livelihood in the field.

These watchmen are forced, during the rains, to erect, instead of a clay pillar, a scaffolding of wood as high as the crop, over which they suspend a roof of straw, to shelter their naked bodies from the rain.—Tennant.

The Golden Palaces.—V. 35.

Every thing belonging to the sovereign of Ava has the addition of [Transcriber: the last letter of the word “sho-” is unreadable], or golden, annexed to it; even his majesty’s person is never mentioned but in conjunction with this precious metal. When a subject means to affirm that the king has heard any thing, he says, “it has reached the golden ears;” he who obtained admission to the royal presence has been at the “golden feet.” The perfume of otto of roses, a nobleman observed one day, “was an odour grateful to the golden nose.”—Symes.

A cloud ascending in the eastern sky
Sails slowly o’er the vale,
And darkens round, and closes in the night.—V. p. 37.

At this season of the year, it is not uncommon, towards the evening, to see a small black cloud rising in the eastern part of the horizon, and afterwards spreading itself to the north-west. This phenomenon is always attended with a violent storm of wind, and flashes of the strongest and most vivid lightning and heavy thunder, which is followed by rain. These storms sometimes last for half an hour or more; and, when they disperse, they leave the air greatly freshened, and the sky of a deep, clear, and transparent blue. When they occur near the full moon, the whole atmosphere is illuminated by a soft but brilliant silver light, attended with gentle airs.—Hodges.

A white flag, flapping to the winds of night,
Marks where the tyger seized his human prey.—V. p. 37.

It is usual to place a small white triangular flag, fixed to a bamboo staff, of ten or twelve feet long, at the place where a tyger has destroyed a man. It is common for the passengers, also, each to throw a stone, or brick, near the spot, so that, in the course of a little time, a pile equal to a good waggon-load is collected. This custom, as well as the fixing a rag on any particular thorn-bush, near the fatal spot, is in use likewise on various accounts. Many brambles may be seen in a day’s journey, completely covered with this motley assemblage of remnants. The sight of the flags and piles of stones imparts a certain melancholy, not perhaps altogether devoid of apprehension: They may be said to be of service in pointing out the places most frequented by tygers.—Oriental Sports, vol. ii. p. 22.

Pollear.—V. p. 45.

The first and greatest of the sons of Sevee is Pollear: he presides over marriages: The Indians build no house without having first carried a Pollear on the ground, which they sprinkle with oil, and throw flowers on it every day. If they do not invoke it before they undertake any enterprise, they believe that God will make them forget what they wanted to undertake, and that their labour will be in vain. He is represented with an elephant’s head, and mounted on a rat; but in the pagodas they place him on a pedestal, with his legs almost crossed. A rat is always put before the door of his chapel. This rat was a giant, called Gudja-mouga-chourin, on whom the gods had bestowed immortality, as well as great powers, which he abused, and did much harm to mankind. Pollear, entreated by the sages and penitents to deliver them, pulled out one of his tusks, and threw it against Gudja-mouga-chourin; the tooth entered the giant’s stomach, and overthrew him, who immediately changed himself into a rat as large as a mountain, and came to attack Pollear, who sprung on his back, telling him, that hereafter he should ever be his carrier.

The Indians, in their adoration of this god, cross their arms, shut the fist, and in this manner give themselves several blows on the temples; then, but always with the arms crossed, they take hold of their ears, and make three inclinations, bending the knee; after which, with their hands joined, they address their prayers to him, and strike their forehead. They have a great veneration for this deity, whose image they place in all temples, streets, highways, and, in the country, at the foot of some tree, that all the world may have an opportunity of invoking him before they undertake any concern, and that travellers may make their adorations and offerings to him before they pursue their journey.—Sonnerat.

The Glendoveers.—VI. p. 48.

This word is altered from the Grindouvers of Sonnerat, who describes these celestial children of Casyapa as famous for their beauty; they have wings, he adds, and fly in the air with their wives. I do not know whether they are the Gandharvas of the English orientalists. The wings with which they are attired in the poem are borrowed from the neglected story of Peter Wilkins, a work of great genius. Whoever the author was, his winged people are the most beautiful creatures of imagination that ever were devised. I copy his minute description of the graundee, as he calls it:—Stothard has made some delightful drawings of it in the Novelist’s Magazine.

“She first threw up two long branches, or ribs, of the whale-bone, as I called it before, (and indeed for several of its properties, as toughness, elasticity, and pliableness, nothing I have ever seen can so justly be compared to it,) which were jointed behind to the upper-bone of the spine, and which, when not extended, lie bent over the shoulders on each side of the neck forwards, from whence, by nearer and nearer approaches, they just meet at the lower rim of the belly in a sort of point; but, when extended, they stand their whole length above the shoulders, not perpendicularly, but spreading outwards, with a web of the softest and most pliable and spungy membrane that can be imagined in the interstices between them, reaching from their root or joint on the back up above the hinder part of the head, and near half way their own length; but, when closed, the membrane falls down in the middle upon the neck, like an handkerchief. There are also two other ribs, rising, as it were, from the same root, which, when open, run horizontally, but not so long as the others. These are filled up in the interstice between them and the upper ones with the same membrane; and on the lower side of this is also a deep flap of the membrane, so that the arms can be either above or below it in flight, and are always above it when closed. This last rib, when shut, flaps under the upper one, and also falls down with it before to the waist; but it is not joined to the ribs below. Along the whole spine-bone runs a strong, flat, broad, grisly cartilage, to which are joined several other of these ribs, all which open horizontally, and are filled in the interstices with the above membrane, and are jointed to the ribs of the person just where the plane of the back begins to turn towards the breast and belly; and, when shut, wrap the body round to the joints on the contrary side, folding neatly one side over the other.

“At the lower spine are two more ribs extended horizontally when open, jointed again to the hips, and long enough to meet the joint on the contrary side cross the belly: and from the hip-joint, which is on the outermost edge of the hip-bone, runs a pliable cartilage quite down the outside of the thigh and leg to the ancle; from which there branch out divers other ribs, horizontally also when open, but, when closed, they encompass the whole thigh and leg, rolling inwards cross the back of the leg and thigh, till they reach and just cover the cartilage. The interstices of these are filled up with the same membrane. From the two ribs which join to the lower spine-bone, there hangs down a sort of short apron, very full of plaits, from hip-joint to hip-joint, and reaches below the buttocks, half way or more to the hams. This has also several small limber ribs in it. Just upon the lower spine-joint, and above the apron, as I call it, there are two other long branches, which, when close, extend upon the back from the point they join at below to the shoulders, where each rib has a clasper, which, reaching over the shoulders, just under the fold of the uppermost branch or ribs, hold up the two ribs flat to the back, like a V, the interstices of which are filled up with the aforesaid membrane. This last piece, in flight, falls down almost to the ancles, where the two claspers, lapping under each leg within-side, hold it very fast; and then, also, the short apron is drawn up, by the strength of the ribs in it, between the thighs forward, and covers as far as the rim of the belly. The whole arms are covered also from the shoulders to the wrist with the same delicate membrane, fastened to ribs of proportionable dimensions, and jointed to a cartilage on the outside in the same manner as on the legs. It is very surprising to feel the difference of these ribs when open and when closed; for closed, they are as pliable as the finest whale-bone, or more so; but, when extended, are as strong and stiff as a bone. They are tapering from the roots, and are broader or narrower, as best suits the places they occupy, and the stress they are put to, up to their points, which are almost as small as a hair. The membrane between them is the most elastic thing I ever met with, occupying no more space, when the ribs are closed, than just from rib to rib, as flat and smooth as possible; but, when extended in some postures, will dilate itself surprisingly,

“It is the most amazing thing in the world to observe the large expansion of this graundee when open, and, when closed, (as it all is in a moment, upon the party’s descent,) to see it fit so close and compact to the body as no tailor can come up to it; and then the several ribs lie so justly disposed in the several parts, that instead of being, as one would imagine, a disadvantage to the shape, they make the body and limbs look extremely elegant; and by the different adjustment of their lines on the body and limbs, the whole, to my fancy, somewhat resembles the dress of the old Roman warriors in their buskins; and, to appearance, seems much more noble than any fictitious garb I ever saw, or can frame a notion of to myself.”

Mount Himakoot.—VI. p. 49.

Dushmanta. Say, Matali, what mountain is that which, like an evening cloud, pours exhilarating streams, and forms a golden zone between the western and eastern seas?

Matali. That, O king! is the mountain of Gandharvas, named Hémacúta: The universe contains not a more excellent place for the successful devotion of the pious. There Casyapa, father of the immortals, ruler of men, son of Marichi, who sprang from the self-existent, resides with his consort Aditi, blessed in holy retirement.—We now enter the sanctuary of him who rules the world, and the groves which are watered by streams from celestial sources.

Dushmanta. I see with equal amazement both the pious and their awful retreat. It becomes, indeed, pure spirits to feed on balmy air in a forest blooming with trees of life; to bathe in rills dyed yellow with the golden dust of the lotus, and to fortify their virtue in the mysterious bath; to meditate in caves, the pebbles of which are unblemished gems; and to restrain their passions, even though nymphs of exquisite beauty frolick around them. In this grove alone is attained the summit of true piety, to which other hermits in vain aspire.—Sacontala.

Her death predoom’d
To that black hour of midnight, when the Moon
Hath turn’d her face away,
Unwilling to behold
The unhappy end of guilt!—VI. p. 50.

I will now speak to thee of that time in which, should a devout man die, he will never return; and of that time in which, dying, he shall return again to earth.

Those holy men who are acquainted with Brahm, departing this life in the fiery light of day, in the bright season of the moon, within the six months of the sun’s northern course, go unto him: but those who depart in the gloomy night of the Moon’s dark season, and whilst the Sun is yet within the southern part of his journey, ascend for a while into the regions of the Moon, and again return to mortal birth. These two, Light and Darkness, are esteemed the World’s eternal ways: he who walketh in the former path returneth not; whilst he who walketh in the latter, cometh back again upon the earth.—Kreeshna, in the Bhagvat Geeta.

Indra.—VI. p. 52.

The Indian God of the visible Heavens is called Indra, or the King; and Divespetir, Lord of the Sky. He has the character of the Roman Genius, or chief of the Good Spirits. His consort is named Sachi; his celestial city Amaravati; his palace Vaijayanta; his garden Nandana; his chief elephant Airevat; his charioteer Matali; and his weapon Vajra, or the thunder-bolt. He is the regent of winds and showers, and, though the East is peculiarly under his care, yet his Olympus is Meru, or the North Pole, allegorically represented as a mountain of gold and gems. He is the Prince of the beneficent Genii.—Sir W. Jones.

A distinct idea of Indra, the King of Immortals, may be collected from a passage in the ninth section of the Geta.

“These having, through virtue, reached the mansion of the king of Suras, feast on the exquisite heavenly food of the Gods; they, who have enjoyed this lofty region of Swerga, but whose virtue is exhausted, revisit the habitation of mortals.”

He is the God of thunder and the five elements, with inferior Genii under his command; and is conceived to govern the eastern quarter of the world, but to preside, like the Genius or Agathodæmon of the ancients, over the celestial bands, which are stationed on the summit of Meru, or the North Pole, where he solaces the Gods with nectar and heavenly music.

The Cinnaras are the male dancers in Swerga, or the Heaven of Indra, and the Apsaras are his dancing girls, answering to the fairies of the Persians, and to the damsels called in the Koran hhúru lûyùn, or, with antelope’s eyes.—Sir W. Jones.

I have seen Indra tremble at his prayer,
And at his dreadful penances turn pale.—VI. p. 52.

Of such penances Mr. Halhed has produced a curious specimen:

“In the wood, Midhoo, which is on the confines of the kingdoms of Brege, Tarakee selected a pleasant and beautiful spot, adorned with verdure and blossoms, and there exerted himself in penance and mortification, externally, with the sincerest piety, but, in reality, the most malignant intention, and with the determined purpose of oppressing the Devetas; penances such as credulity itself was astonished to hear; and they are here recounted:—

1. For a hundred years, he held up his arms and one foot towards heaven, and fixed his eyes upon the sun the whole time.

2. For a hundred years, he remained standing on tip-toe.

3. For a hundred years more, he nourished himself with nothing but water.

4. For a hundred years more, he lived upon nothing but air.

5. For a hundred years more, he stood and made his adorations in the river.

6. For a hundred years more, he made those adorations buried up to his neck in the earth.

7. For a hundred years more, enveloped with fire.

8. For a hundred years more, he stood upon his head with his feet towards heaven.

9. For a hundred years more, he stood upon the palm of one hand resting on the ground.

10. For a hundred years more, he hung by his hand from the branch of a tree.

11. For a hundred years more, he hung from a tree with his head downwards.

When he at length came to a respite from these severe mortifications, a radiant glory encircled the devotee, and a flame of fire, arising from his head, began to consume the whole world.”—From the Seeva Pooraun, Maurice’s History of Hindostan.

You see a pious Yogi, motionless as a pollard, holding his thick bushy hair, and fixing his eyes on the solar orb. Mark—his body is half covered with a white ant’s edifice made of raised clay; the skin of a snake supplies the place of his sacerdotal thread, and part of it girds his loins; a number of knotty plants encircle and wound his neck, and surrounding birds’ nests almost conceal his shoulders.

Dushmanta. I bow to a man of his austere devotion.—Sacontala.

That even Seeva’s self,
The Highest, cannot grant, and be secure.—VI. p. 52.

It will be seen from the following fable, that Seeva had once been reduced to a very humiliating employment by one of Kehama’s predecessors:

Ravana, by his power and infernal arts, had subjugated all the gods and demigods, and forced them to perform menial offices about his person and household. Indra made garlands of flowers to adorn him withal; Agni was his cook; Surya supplied light by day, and Chandra by night; Varuna purveyed water for the palace; Kuvera furnished cash. The whole nava-graha (the nine planetary spheres) sometimes arranged themselves into a ladder, by which, they serving as steps, the tyrant ascended his throne: Brahma (for the great gods were there also; and I give this anecdote as I find it in my memoranda, without any improved arrangement)—Brahma was a herald, proclaiming the giant’s titles, the day of the week, month, &c. daily in the palace,—a sort of speaking almanack: Mahadeva, (i. e. Seeva,) in his Avatara of Kandeh-roo, performed the office of barber, and trimmed the giants’ beards: Vishnu had the honourable occupation of instructing and drilling the dancing and singing girls, and selecting the fairest for the royal bed: Ganesa had the care of the cows, goats, and herds; Vayu swept the house; Yama washed the linen;—and in this manner were all the gods employed in the menial offices of Ravana, who rebuked and flogged them in default of industry and attention. Nor were the female divinities exempted; for Bhavani, in her name and form of Satni, was head Aya, or nurse, to Ravana’s children; Lakshmi and Saraswati were also among them, but it does not appear in what capacity.—Moor’s Hindu Pantheon, p. 333.

Seeva was once in danger even of annihilation: “In passing from the town of Silgut to Deonhully, says Colonel Wilks, I became accidentally informed of a sect, peculiar, as I since understand, to the north-eastern parts of Mysoor, the women of which universally undergo the amputation of the first joints of the third and fourth fingers of their right hands. On my arrival at Deonhully, after ascertaining that the request would not give offence, I desired to see some of these women; and, the same afternoon, seven of them attended at my tent. The sect is a sub-division of the Murresoo Wokul, 1 and belongs to the fourth great class of the Hindoos, viz. the Souder. Every woman of the sect, previously to piercing the ears of her eldest daughter, preparatory to her being betrothed in marriage, must necessarily undergo this mutilation, which is performed by the blacksmith of the village, for a regulated fee, by a surgical process sufficiently rude. The finger to be amputated is placed on a block; the blacksmith places a chisel over the articulation of the joint, and chops it off at a single blow. If the girl to be betrothed is motherless, and the mother of the boy have not before been subject to the operation, it is incumbent on her to perform the sacrifice. After satisfying myself with regard to the facts of the case, I enquired into the origin of so strange a practice, and one of the women related, with great fluency, the following traditionary tale, which has since been repeated to me, with no material deviation, by several others of the sect:

A Rachas (or giant) named Vrica, and in after times Busm-aasoor, or the giant of the ashes, had, by a course of austere devotion to Mahadeo (Seeva) obtained from him the promise of whatever boon he should ask. The Rachas accordingly demanded, that every person on whose head he should place his right hand, might instantly be reduced to ashes; and Mahadeo conferred the boon, without suspicion of the purpose for which it was designed.

The Rachas no sooner found himself possessed of this formidable power, than he attempted to use it for the destruction of his benefactor. Mahadeo fled, the Rachas pursued, and followed the fugitive so closely as to chace him into a duck grove; where Mahadeo, changing his form and bulk, concealed himself in the centre of a fruit, then called tunda pundoo, but since named linga tunda, from the resemblance which its kernel thenceforward assumed to the ling, the appropriate emblem of Mahadeo.

The Rachas having lost sight of Mahadeo, enquired of a husbandman, who was working in the adjoining field, whether he had seen the fugitive, and what direction he had taken. The husbandman, who had attentively observed the whole transaction, fearful of the future resentment of Mahadeo, and equally alarmed for the present vengeance of the giant, answered aloud, that he had seen no fugitive, but pointed, at the same time, with the little finger of his right hand, to the place of Mahadeo’s concealment.

In this extremity, 2 Vishnou descended, in the form of a beautiful damsel, to the rescue of Mahadeo. The Rachas became instantly enamoured;—the damsel was a pure Brahmin, and might not be approached by the unclean Rachas. By degrees she appeared to relent; and, as a previous condition to farther advances, enjoined the performance of his ablutions in a neighbouring pool. After these were finished, she prescribed, as a farther purification, the performance of the Sundia,—a ceremony in which the right hand is successively applied to the breast, to the crown of the head, and to other parts of the body. The Rachas, thinking only of love, and forgetful of the powers of his right hand, performed the Sundia, and was himself reduced to ashes.

Mahadeo now issued from the linga tunda, and, after the proper acknowledgments for his deliverance, proceeded to discuss the guilt of the treacherous husbandman, and determined on the loss of the finger with which he had offended, as the proper punishment of his crime.

The wife of the husbandman, who had just arrived at the field with food for her husband, hearing this dreadful sentence, threw herself at the feet of Mahadeo. She represented the certain ruin of her family, if her husband should be disabled for some months from performing the labours of the farm, and besought the Deity to accept two of her fingers, instead of one from her husband. Mahadeo, pleased with so sincere a proof of conjugal affection, accepted the exchange, and ordained, that her female posterity, in all future generations, should sacrifice two fingers at his temple, as a memorial of the transaction, and of their exclusive devotion to the God of the Ling.

The practice is, accordingly, confined to the supposed, posterity of this single woman, and is not common to the whole sect of Murresoo-Wokul. I ascertained the actual number of families who observed this practice in three successive districts through which I afterwards passed, and I conjecture that, within the limits of Misoor, they may amount to about two thousand houses.

The Hill of Sectee, in the talook of Colar, where the giant was destroyed, is (according to this tradition) formed of the ashes of Busmaa-soor: It is held in particular veneration by this sect, as the chief seat of their appropriate sacrifice; and the fact of its containing little or no moisture, is held to be a miraculous proof that the ashes of the giant continue to absorb the most violent and continued rain. This is a remarkable example of easy credulity. I have examined the mountain, which is of a sloping form, and composed of coarse granite.—Hist. Sketches of the South of India, vol. i. p. 442, note.

The Ship of Heaven.—VI. p. 56.

I have converted the Vimana, or self-moving Car of the Gods, into a Ship. Capt. Wilford has given the history of its invention,—and, what is more curious, has attempted to settle the geography of the story:

“A most pious and venerable sage, named Rishi’ce’sa, being very far advanced in years, had resolved to visit, before he died, all the famed places of pilgrimage; and, having performed his resolution, he bathed at last in the sacred water of the Ca’li, where he observed some fishes engaged in amorous play, and restating on their numerous progeny, which would sport like then in the stream, he lamented the improbability of leaving any children: but, since he might possibly be a father, even at his great age, he went immediately to the king of that country, Hiranyaverna, who had fifty daughters, and demanded one of them in marriage. So strange a demand gave the prince great uneasiness: yet he was unwilling to incur the displeasure of a saint, whose imprecations he dreaded; he, therefore, invoked Heri, or Vishnu; to inspire him with a wise answer, and told the hoar philosopher, that he should marry any one of his daughters, who, of her own accord, should fix on him as her bridegroom. The sage, rather disconcerted, left the palace; but, calling to mind the two sons of Aswini, he hastened to their terrestrial abode, and requested that they would bestow on him both youth and beauty: they immediately conducted him to Abhimatada, which we suppose to be Abydus, in Upper Egypt; and, when he had bathed in the pool of Rupayauvana, he was restored to the flower of his age with the graces and charms of Ca’ma’de’va. On his return to the palace, he entered the secret apartments, called antahpura, where the fifty princesses were assembled: and they were all so transported with the vision of more than human beauty, that they fell into an ecstacy, whence the place was afterwards named Mohast-han, or Mohana, and is, possibly, the same with Mohannan. They no sooner had recovered from their trance, than each of them exclaimed, that she would be his bride; and their altercation having brought Hiranyaverna into their apartment, he terminated the contest by giving them all in marriage to Rishice’sa, who became the father of a hundred sons; and, when he succeeded to the throne, built the city of Suc-haverddhana, framed vimânas, or celestial, self-moving cars, in which he visited the gods, and made gardens, abounding in delights, which rivalled the bowers of Indra; but, having granted the desire, which he formed at Matoyasangama, or the place where the fish were assembled, he resigned the kingdom to his eldest son Hiranyavriddha, and returned, in his former shape, to the banks of the Ca’li, where he closed his days in devotion.—Wilford. Asiatic Researches.

Dushmanta. In what path of the winds are we now journeying?

Matali. This is the way which leads along the triple river, heaven’s brightest ornament, and causes yon luminaries to roll in a circle with diffused beams: it is the course of a gentle breeze which supports the floating forms of the gods; and this path was the second step of Vishnu when he confounded the proud Bali.

* * *

Dushmanta. The car itself instructs me that we are moving over clouds pregnant with showers; for the circumference of its wheels disperses pellucid water.

* * *

Dushmanta. These chariot wheels yield no sound; no dust arises from them, and the descent of the car gave me no shock.

Matali. Such is the difference, O King! between thy car and that of Indra.—Sacontala.

And ending thus where they began, &c.—VII. p. 66.

It has been supposed that the perpetual lamps, which were at one time believed to have been found in certain sepulchres, were kept burning by a similar process. For the lamp, it was argued, being hermetically closed, so that no smoke could escape, the smoke was condensed into its original liquid form; and thus the liquor which fed the flame passing into smoke, and the smoke again into the liquor, the flame was continually kept up. There still remained a difficulty about the wick; some supposed that this was made of threads of gold inconceivably fine: others, with less expense of fancy, said a wick of asbestos would answer the purpose.—Feyjoo. Theatro Critico, T. 4. Disc. 3. § v. 13.

The Raining Tree.—VII. p. 65.

The island of Fierro is one of the most considerable of the Canaries, and I conceive that name to be given it upon this account, that its soil not affording so much as a drop of fresh water, seems to be of iron; and, indeed, there is in this island neither river, nor rivulet, nor well, nor spring, save that only, towards the sea-side, there are some wells; but they lie at such a distance from the city, that the inhabitants can make no use thereof. But the great Preserver and Sustainer of all, remedies this inconvenience by a way so extraordinary, that a man will be forced to sit down and acknowledge that he gives in this an undeniable demonstration of his goodness and infinite providence,

For, in the midst of the island, there is a tree, which is the only one of its kind, inasmuch as it hath no resemblance to those mentioned by us in this relation, nor to any other known to us in Europe. The leaves of it are long and narrow, and continue in a constant verdure, winter and summer; and its branches are covered with a cloud, which is never dispelled, but resolved into a moisture, which causes to fall from its leaves a very clear water, and that in such abundance, that the cisterns, which are placed at the foot of the tree to receive it, are never empty, but contain enough to supply both men and beasts.—Mandelslo.

Feyjoo denies the existence of any such tree, upon the authority of P. Tallandier, a French Jesuit, (quoted in Men. de Trevoux. 2715, art. 97.) who visited the island. “Assi no dudo,” he adds, “que este Fenix de las plantas es ten fingedo como el de las aves.”—Theat. Crit. Tom. ii. Disc. 2. § 65. What authority is due to the testimony of this French Jesuit I do not know, never having seen his book; but it appears, from the undoubted evidence of Glas, that its existence is believed in the Canaries, and positively affirmed by the inhabitants of Fierro itself.

“There are,” says this excellent author, “only three fountains of water in the whole island, one of them is called Acof, 3 which, in the language of the ancient inhabitants, signifies river; a name, however, which does not seem to have been given it on account of its yielding much water, for in that respect it hardly deserves the same of a fountain. More to the northward is another called Hapio; and in the middle of the island is a spring, yielding a stream about the thickness of a man’s finger. This last was discovered in the year 1565, and is called the Fountain of Anton Hernandez. On account of the scarcity of water, the sheep, goats, and swine here do not drink in the summer, but are taught to dig up the roots of fern, and chew them, to quench their thirst. The great cattle are watered at those fountains, and at a place where water distils from the leaves of a tree. Many writers have made mention of this famous tree; some in such a manner as to make it appear miraculous; others again deny the existence of any such tree, among whom is Father Feyjoo, a modern Spanish author, in his Theatro Critico. But he, and those who agree with him in this matter, are as much mistaken as they who would make it appear miraculous. This is the only island of all the Canaries which I have not been in; but I have sailed with natives of Hierro, who, when questioned about the existence of this tree, answered in the affirmative.

The author of the History of the Discovery and Conquest has given us a particular account of it, which I shall relate here at large. “The district in which this tree stands is called Tigulahe; near to which, and in the cliff, or steep rocky ascent that surrounds the whole island, is a narrow gutter or gulley, which commences at the sea, and continues to the summit of the cliff, where it joins or coincides with a valley, which is terminated by the steep front of a rock. On the top of this rock grows a tree, called, in the language of the ancient inhabitants, Garse, i.e. Sacred or Holy Tree, which, for many years, has been preserved sound, entire, and fresh. Its leaves constantly distil such a quantity of water as is sufficient to furnish drink to every living creature in Hierro; nature having provided this remedy for the drought of the island. It is situated about a league and a half from the sea. Nobody knows of what species it is, only that it is called Til. It is distinct from other, trees, and stands by itself; the circumference of the trunk is about twelve spans, the diameter four, and in height, from the ground to the top of the highest branch, forty spans: The circumference of all the branches together, is one hundred and twenty feet. The branches are thick and extended; the lowest commence about the height of an ell from the ground. Its fruit resembles the acorn, and tastes something like the kernel of a pine-nut, but is softer and more aromatic. The leaves of this tree resemble those of the laurel, but are larger, wider, and more curved; they come forth in a perpetual succession, so that the tree always remains green. Near to it grows a thorn, which fastens on many of its branches, and interweaves with them; and, at a small distance from the Garse, are some beech-trees, bresos, and thorns. On the north side of the trunk are two large tanks, or cisterns, of rough stone, or rather one patera divided, each half being twenty feet square, and sixteen spans in depth. One of these contains water for the drinking of the inhabitants, and the other that which they use for their cattle, washing, and such like purposes. Every morning, near this part of the island, a cloud or mist arises from the sea, which the south and easterly winds force against the fore-mentioned steep cliff; so that the cloud, having no vent but by the gutter, gradually ascends it, and from thence advances slowly to the extremity of the valley, where it is stopped and checked by the front of the rock which terminates the valley, and then rests upon the thick leaves and wide-spreading branches of the tree; from whence it distils in drops during the remainder of the day, until it is at length exhausted, in the same manner that we see water drip from the leaves of trees after a heavy shower of rain. This distillation is not peculiar to the Garse, or Til, for the bresos which grow near it likewise drop water; but their leaves being but few and narrow, the quantity is so trifling, that, though the natives save some of it, yet they make little or no account of any but what distils from the Til; which, together with the water of some fountains, and what is saved in the winter season, is sufficient to serve them and their flocks. This tree yields most water in those years when the Levant, or easterly winds, have prevailed for a continuance; for by these winds only, the clouds or mists are drawn hither from the sea. A person lives on the spot near which this tree grows, who is appointed by the Council to take care of it and its water, and is allowed a house to live in, with a certain salary. He every day distributes to each family of the district, seven pots or vessels full of water, besides what he gives to the principal people of the island.”

“Whether the tree which yields water at this present time be the same as that mentioned in the above description, I cannot pretend to determine, but it is probable there has been a succession of them; for Pliny, describing the Fortunate Islands, says, “In the mountains of Ombrion, are trees resembling the plant Ferula, from which water may be procured by pressure: What comes from the black kind is bitter, but that which the white yields is sweet and palatable.”—Glas’s History of the Canary Islands.

Cordeyro (Historia Insulana, lib. ii. c. 5.) says, that this tree resembles what in other places is called the Til, (Tilia,) the Linden Tree; and he proceeds, from these three letters, to make it an emblem of the Trinity. The water, he says, was called the Agua Santa, and the tree itself the Santa Arvore,—appellations not ill bestowed. According to his account the water was delivered out in stated portions.

There is an account of a similar tree in Cockburne’s Travels; but this I believe to be a work of fiction. Bernal Diaz, however, mentions one as growing at Naco, in Honduras, “Que en mitad de la siesta, por recio sol que hiziesse, parecia que la sombra del arbol refrescava el corazon, caia del uno como rozio muy delgado que confortava las cabezas.”—206.

There may be some exaggeration in the accounts of the Fierro Tree, but that the story has some foundation I have no doubt. The islanders of St. Thomas say, that they have a sort of trees whose leaves continually are distilling water. (Barbot. in Churckle, 405.) It is certain that a dew falls in hot weather from the lime,—a fact of which any person may easily convince himself. The same property has been observed in other English trees, as appears by the following extract from the Monthly Magazine:

“In the beginning of August, after a sun-shine day, the air became suddenly misty about six o’clock; I walked, however, by the road side from seven to eight, and observed, in many places, that a shower of big drops of water was falling under the large trees, although no rain fell elsewhere. The road and path continued dusty, and the field-gates showed no signs of being wetted by the mist. I have often noticed the like fact, but have not met with a satisfactory explanation of this power in trees to condense mist.”

I am not the only poet who has availed himself of the Fierro Tree. It is thus introduced in the Columbus of Carrara,—a singular work, containing, amid many extravagancies, some passages of rare merit:

Ecce autem inspector miri dum devius ignis Fertur, in occursum miræ magis incidit undæ. Æquoris in medio diffusi largiter arbor Stabat, opaca, ingens, ævoque intacta priori, Grata qiues Nymphis, et grata colentibus umbram Alitibus sedes, quarum vox blanda, nec ullâ Musicus arte canor sylvam resonare docebat. Auditor primum rari modulaminis, utque Cominus admovit gressum, spectator et hæsit; Namque videbat, uti de cortice, deque supernis Crinibus, argentum guttatim mitteret humens Truncus, et ignaro plueret Jove; moxque serenus In concham caderet subjecti marmoris imber, Donec ibi in fontem collectis undique rivis Cresceret, atque ipso jam non ingratus ab ortu Redderet humorem matri, quæ commodat umbram.
Dum stupet et quærit, cur internodia possit Unda; per et fibras, virides et serpere rugas, Et ferri sursum, genio ducente deorsum; Adstitit en Nympha; dubitat decernere, Nais, Anne Dryas, custos num fontis, an arboris esset; Verius ut credam, Genius sub imagine Nymphæ Ille loci fuerat. Quam præstantissimus Heros Protinus ut vidit, Parce, o pulcherrima, dixit, Si miser, et vestras ejectus nuper ad oras Naufragus, idem audax videor fortasse rogando. Dic age, quas labi video de stipite, lymphæ Montibus anne cadant, per operta foramina ductæ, Mox trabis irriguæ saliant in frondea sursum Brachia, ramalesque tubos; genitalis an alvus Umbrosæ genitricis alat; ceu sæpe videmus Balsama de truncis, stillare electra racemis. Pandere ne grave sit cupienti noscere causam Vilia quæ vobis usus miracula fecit.
Hæc ubi dicta, silet. Tum Virgo ita reddidit, Hospes Quisquis es, (eximium certe præsentia prodit) Deciperis, si forte putas, quas aspicis undas Esse satas terrâ; procul omni a sede remota Mira arbos, uni debet sua munera Cœlo. Quâ ratione tamen capiat, quia noscere gestis Edicam; sed dicendis ne tædia repant, Hic locus, hæc eadem, de quâ cantabitur, arbor Dat tempestivam blandis afflatibus umbram: Hic una sedeamus; et ambo fontis ad undam Consedere; dehinc intermittente parumper Concentu volucrum, placido sic incipit ore.
Nomine Canariæ, de quâ tenet Insula nomen, Virgo fuit, non ore minus, quam prædita raræ Laude pudicitiæ, mirum quæ pectore votum Clausit, ut esse eadem genitrix et virgo cupiret. At quia in Urbe satam fuerat sortita parentem Ortum rure Patrem, diversis moribus hausit Hinc sylvæ austeros, teneros hinc Urbis amores. Sæpe ubi visendi studio convenerat Urbes, Et dare blanditias natis et sumere matres Viderat ante fores, ut mater amavit amari. Sæpe ubi rure fuit de nymphis una Dianæ, Viderat atque Deam thalami consorte carentem, Esse Deæ similis, nec amari ut mater amavit. Sed quid aget? cernit fieri non posse quod optat; Non optare tamen, crudelius urit amantem. Noctis erat medium: quo nos sumus, hoc erat illa Forte loco, Cœloque videns splendescere Lunam, O Dea, cui triplicis concessa potentia regni, Parce precor, dixit, si quæ nunc profero, non sum Ausa prius; quod non posses audire Diana, Cum sis Luna potes; tenebræ minuere pudorem. Est mihi Virginitas, fateor, re charior omni, Attamen, hâc salvâ, fœcundæ si quoque Matris Nomina miscerem, duplici de nomine quantum Ambitiosa forem; certe non parva voluptas Me caperet, coram si quis me luderet infans Si mecum gestu, mecum loqueretur ocellis, Cumque potest, quacumque potest, me voce vocaret, Cujus et in vultu multum de matre viderem. Ni sinit hoc humana tamen nature licere, Fiat quâ ratione potest; mutare figuram Nil refert, voti compos si denique fiam. Annuit oranti facilis Dea; Virgine digna Et quia vota tulit, Virgo probat. Eligit ergo De grege Plantarum ligni quæ cœlibis esset. Visa fuit Platanus: placet hæc; si vertat in istam Canariæ corpus, sibi tempus in omne futuram Tam caram esse videt, quam sit sua laurea Phœbo. Nec mora, poscenti munus, ne signa deessent Certa dati, movit falcatæ cornua frontis. Virginis extemplo cœpere rigere crura Tenvia vestiri duro præcordia libro, Ipsaque miratur, cervix quod eburnea, quantum It Cœlo, tantum tendant in Tartara plantæ; Et jam formosâ de Virgine stabat et Arbos Non formosa minus; qui toto in corpore pridem Par ebori fuerat, candor quoque cortice mansit. Sed deerat conjux uxoris moribus æque Integer et cœlebs, et Virginitatis amator, Quo fœcunda foret; verum tellure petendus Hon hic, ab axe fuit. Quare incorruptus et idem Purior e cunctis stellatæ noctis alumnis Poscitur Hersophorus, sic Graii nomine dicunt, Rorem Itali. Quocumque die (quis credere posset?) Tamquam ex condicto cum Sol altissimus extat, Sydereus conjux nebulæ velatus amictu Labitur huc, niveisque maritam amplectitur alis: Quodque fidem superat, parvo post tempora fœtum Concipit, et parvo post tempore parturit arbor, Molle puerperium vis noscere? consule fontem, Qui nos propter adest, in quo mixtura duorum Agnosci possit, splendet materque paterque. Læta fovet genitrix, compos jam facta cupiti; Illius optarat vultu se noscere, noscit; Cernere ludentem se circum, ludere cernit; Illum audire rudi matrem quoque voce vocantem, Et matrem sese dici dum murmurat, audit. Nec modo Virgintas fæcunda est arboris, ipsæ Sunt quoque fœcundæ frondes, quas excutit arbor. Nam simul ac supra latices cecidere tepentes, Insuper accessit Phœbei flamma caloris, Concipiunt, pariuntque: oriturque tenerrimius ales Nomine Canarius, qui pene exclusus in auras, Tenvis adhuc, cœlique rudis, crudusque labori Jam super extantes affectat scandere ramos, Et frondes, quarum una fuit. Nidum inde sub illis Collocat adversum Soli, cui pandere pennas Et siccare queat; latet hic, nullâque magistrâ Arte canit, matrisque replet concentibus aures. Adde quod affectus reddit genitricis eosdem, Utque puellari genitrix in pectore clausit, Hinc sylvæ austeros, teneros hinc Urbis amores, Sic amat hic sylvas, ut non fastidiat Urbes. Tecta colit, patiturque hominem, nec divitis aulæ Grande supercilium metuit sylvestris alumnus. Imo loco admonitus, vix aulicus incipit esse, Jam fit adulator, positum proferre paratus In statione melos, domini quod vellicet aurem. Carrara. Columbus.

The Walking-Leaf would have been better than the Canary Bird.

Nared.—VII. p. 67.

A very distinguished son of Brahma, named Nared, bears a strong resemblance to Hermes or Mercury; he was a wise legislator, great in arts and in arms, an eloquent messenger of the Gods either to one another, or to favoured mortals, and a musician of exquisite skill. His invention of the Vina, or Indian lute, is thus described in the poem entitled Magha: “Nared sat watching from time to time his large Vina, which, by the impulse of the breeze, yielded notes that pierced successively the regions of his ear, and proceeded by musical intervals.”—Asiatic Researches, Sir W. Jones.

The Vina is an Æolian harp. The people of Amboyna have a different kind of Æolian instrument, which is thus described in the first account of D’Entrecasteaux’s Voyage: “Being on the sea-shore, I heard some wind-instruments, the harmony of which, though sometimes very correct, was intermixed with discordant notes that were by no means unpleasing. These sounds, which were very musical, and formed fine cadences, seemed to come from such a distance, that I for some time imagined the natives were having a concert beyond the road-stead, near a myriameter from the spot where I stood. My ear was greatly deceived respecting the distance, for I was not an hundred meters from the instrument. It was a bamboo at least twenty meters in height, which had been fixed in a vertical situation by the sea-side. I remarked between each knot a slit about three centimeters long by a centimeter and a half wide; these slits formed so many holes, which, when the wind introduced itself into them, gave agreeable and diversified sounds. As the knots of this long bamboo were very numerous, care had been takes to make holes in different directions, in order that, on whatever side the wind blew, it might always meet with some of them. I cannot convey a better idea of the sound of this instrument, than by comparing them to those of the Harmonica.”—Labillardiere. Voyage in Search of La Perouse.

Nareda, the mythological offspring of Saraswati, patroness of music, is famed for his talents in that science. So great were they, that he became presumptuous; and, emulating the divine strains of Krishna, he was punished by having his Vina placed in the paws of a bear, whence it emitted sounds far sweeter than the minstrelsy of the mortified musician. I have a picture of this joke, in which Krishna is forcing his reluctant friend to attend to his rough-visaged rival, who is ridiculously touching the chords of poor Nareda’s Vina, accompanied by a brother bruin on the cymbals. Krishna passed several practical jokes on his humble and affectionate friend: He metamorphosed him once into a woman, at another time into a bear.—Moor’s Hindu Pantheon, p. 204.

——The Sacrifice
That should, to men and gods, proclaim him Lord
And Sovereign Master of the vassal World.—VII. p. 71.

The Raisoo Yug, or Feast of Rajahs, could only be performed by a monarch who had conquered all the other sovereigns of the world.—Halhed. Note to the Life of Creeshna.

Sole Rajah, the Omnipotent below.—VII. p. 71.

No person has given so complete a sample of the absurdity of oriental titles as the Dutch traveller Struys, in his enumeration of “the proud and blasphemous titles of the King of Siam,—they will hardly bear sense,” says the translator, in what he elsewhere calls, by a happy blunder, “the idiotism of our tongue.”

The Alliance, written with letters of fine gold, being full of godlike glory. The most Excellent, containing all wise sciences. The most Happy, which is not in the world among men. The Best and most Certain that is in Heaven, Earth, and Hell. The greatest Sweet, and friendly Royal Word; whose powerful-sounding properties and glorious fame range through the world, as if the dead were raised by a godlike power, and wonderfully purged from ghostly and corporal corruption. At this both spiritual and secular men admire with a special joy, whereas no dignity may be herewith compared. Proceeding from a friendly, illustrious, inconquerable, most mighty, and most high Lord; and a royal Crown of Gold, adorned with nine sorts of precious stones. The greatest, clearest, and most godlike Lord of unblameable Souls. The most Holy, seeing every where, and protecting Sovereign of the city Judia, whose many streets and open gates are thronged by troops of men, which is the chief metropolis of the whole world, the royal throne of the earth, that is adorned with nine sorts of stones, and most pleasant valleys. He who guides the reins of the world, and has a house more than the Gods of fine gold and of precious stones; they the godlike Lords of thrones and of fine gold; the White, Red, and Round-tayl’d Elephants,—which excellent creatures are the chiefest of the nine sorts of Gods. To none hath the divine Lord given, in whose hand is the victorious sword; who is like the fiery-armed God of Battails, to the most illustrious.

The second is as blasphemous as the first, though hardly swells so far out of sense.

The highest Paducco Syry Sultan, Nelmonam Welgaca, Nelmochadin Magiviitha, Jouken der eauten Allaula fylan, King of the whole world; who makes the water rise and flow. A King that is like a God, and shines like the Sun at noon-day. A King that gives a glance like the moon when it is at full. Elected of God to be worthy as the North Star, being of the race and offspring of the great Alexander; with a great understanding, as a round orb, that tumbles hither and thither, able to guess at the depth of the great sea. A King that hath amended all the funerals of the departed Saints, and is as righteous as God, and of such power that all the world may come and shelter under his wings. A King that doth right in all things, as the Kings of old have done. A King more liberal than all Kings. A King that hath many mines of gold that God hath lent him; who hath built temples half gold and half brass; sitting upon a throne of pure gold, and of all sorts of precious stones. A King of the white Elephant, which Elephant is the King of all Elephants, before whom many thousands of other Elephants must bow and fall upon their knees. He whose eyes shine like the morning-star. A King that hath Elephants with four teeth, red, purple, and pied. Elephants, ay, and a Byytenaques Elephant; for which God has given him many and divers sorts of apparel wrought with most fine gold, ennobled with many precious stones: and, besides these, so many Elephants used in battle, having harnesses of iron, their teeth tipt with steel, and their harnesses laid over with shining brass. A King that has many hundred horses, whose trappings are wrought with fine gold, and adorned with precious stones of every sort that are found in the universal world where the Sun shines, and these shod with fine gold: besides so many hundred horses that are used in war of every kind. A King who has all Emperours, Kings, Princes, and Sovereigns in the whole world, from the rising to the going down of the sun, under subjection;—and such as can obtain his favour are by him promoted to great honour; but, on the contrary, such as revolt, he burns with fire. A King who can show the power of God, and whatever God has made.

And so, by this time, I hope you have heard enough of a King of Elephants and Horses, though not a word of his Asses.—Struys.

The Sacrifice.—VIII. p. 74.

The Aswamedha, or sacrifice of a horse. Considerable difficulties usually attended that ceremony; for the consecrated horse was to be set at liberty for a certain time, and followed at a distance by the owner, or his champion, who was usually one of his near kinsmen; and, if any person should attempt to stop it in its rambles, a battle must inevitably ensue; besides, as the performer of a hundred Aswamedhas became equal to the God of the firmament, Indra was perpetually on the watch, and generally carried off the sacred animal by force or by fraud.—Wilford. Asiat. Res.

Mr. Halhed gives a very curious account of this remarkable sacrifice:

“The Ashum-meed-Jugg does not merely consist in the performance of that ceremony which is open to the inspection of the world, namely, in bringing a horse and sacrificing him; but Ashum-meed is to be taken in a mystic signification, as implying that the sacrificer must look upon himself to be typified in that horse, such as he shall be described, because the religious duty of the Ashum-meed-Jugg comprehends all those other religious duties, to the performance of which all the wise and holy direct all their actions, and by which all the sincere professors of every different faith aim at perfection: The mystic signification thereof is as follows:

“The head of that unblemished horse is the symbol of the morning; his eyes are the sun; his breath the wind; his wide-opening mouth is the Bishwaner, or that innate warmth which invigorates all the world: His body typifies one entire year; his back paradise; his belly the plains; his hoof this earth; his sides the four quarters of the heavens; the bones thereof the intermediate spaces between the four quarters; the rest of his limbs represent all distinct matter; the places where those limbs meet, or his joints, imply the months and halves of the months, which are called peche (or fortnights): His feet signify night and day; and night and day are of four kinds, 1. the night and day of Birhma, 2. the night and day of angels, 3. the night and day of the world of the spirits of deceased ancestors, 4. the night and day of mortals; these four kinds are typified in his four feet. The rest of his bones are the constellations of the fixed stars, which are the twenty-eight stages of the moon’s course, called the Lunar year; his flesh is the clouds; his food the sand; his tendons the rivers; his spleen and his liver the mountains; the hair of his body the vegetables, and his long hair the trees: the fore part of his body typifies the first half of the day, and the hinder part the latter half; his yawning is the flash of the lightning, and his turning himself is the thunder of the cloud: His urine represents the rain, and his mental reflection is his only speech. The golden vessels, which are prepared before the horse is let loose, are the light of the day, and the place where those vessels are kept is a type of the Ocean of the East; the silver vessels, which are prepared after the horse is let loose, are the light of the night; and the place where those vessels are kept is a type of the Ocean of the West: these two sorts of vessels are always before and after the horse. The Arabian horse, which, on account of its swiftness, is called Hy, is the performer of the journies of angels; the Tajee, which is of the race of Persian horses, is the performer of the journies of the Kundherps (or good spirits); the Wazba, which is of the race of the deformed Tazee horses, is the performer of the journies of the Jins, (or demons;) and the Ashoo, which is of the race of Turkish horses, is the performer of the journies of mankind. This one horse, which performs these several services, on account of his four different sorts of riders, obtains the four different appellations. The place where this horse remains is the great ocean, which signifies, the great spirit of Perm-Atma, or the Universal Soul, which proceeds also from that Perm-Atma, and is comprehended in the same Perm-Atma. The intent of this sacrifice is, that a man should consider himself to be in the place of that horse, and look upon all these articles as typified in himself; and, conceiving the Atma (or divine soul) to be an ocean, should let all thought of self be absorbed in that Atma.”—Halhed, from Darul Shekuh.

Compare this specimen of eastern sublimity with the description of the horse in Job! Compare it also with the account of the Bengal horses, in the very amusing work of Captain Williamson,—“which said horses,” he says, “have generally Reman noses, and sharp narrow foreheads, much white in their eyes, ill-shaped ears, square heads, thin necks, narrow chests, shallow girths, lank bellies, cat hams, goose rumps, and switch tails.”—Oriental Sports, vol. ii. p. 206.

The Bowl that in its vessel floats.—VIII. p. 78.

The day and night are here divided into four quarters, each of six hours, and these again into fifteen parts, of twenty-four minutes each. For a chronometer they use a kind of dish of thin brass, at the bottom of which there is a little hole; this is put into a vessel with water, and it runs full in a certain time. They begin their first quarter at six in the morning. They strike the quarters and subdivisions of time with a wooden hammer, upon a flat piece of iron or steel, of about ten inches in diameter, which is called a garnial, and gives a pretty smart sound, which can be heard at some distance. The quarters are first struck, and then as many times as the brass dish has run full in that quarter. None but the chief men of a district are allowed to have a garnial, and still they may not strike the first division of the first quarter, which is a privilege reserved to the nabob alone. Those who attend at these clocks must be of the Bramin cast.—Stavorinus.

Lo, the time-taper’s flame, ascending slow
Creeps up its coil.—VIII. p. 79.

They make a sort of paste of the dust of a certain sort of wood, (the learned and rich men of sandal, eagle-wood, and others that are odoriferous), and of this paste they make sticks of several sorts, drawing them through a hole, that they may be of an equal thickness. They commonly make them one, two, or three yards long, about the thickness of a goose-quill, to burn in the pagods before their idols, or to use like a match to convey fire from one thing to another. These sticks or ropes they coil, beginning at the centre, and so form a spiral conical figure, like a fisherman’s wheel, so that the last circle shall be one, two, or three spans diameter, and will last one, two, or three days, or more, according as it is in thickness. There are of them in the temples that last ten, twenty, and thirty days. This thing is hung up by the centre, and is lighted at the lower end, whence the fire gently and insensibly runs round all the coil, on which there are generally five marks, to distinguish the five parts of the night. This method of measuring time is so exact and true, that they scarce ever find any considerable mistake in it. The learned, travellers, and all others, who will rise at a certain hour to follow their business, hang a little weight at the mark that shews the hour they have a mind to rise at, which, when the fire comes thither, drops into a brass bason set under it; and so the noise of it falling awakes them, as our alarum-clocks do.—Gemelli Careri.

At noon the massacre begun,
And night clos’d in before the work of death was done.
—VIII. p. 82.

Of such massacres the ancient and modern history of the East supply but too many examples. One may suffice:

After the surrender of the Ilbars Khan, Nadir prohibited his soldiers from molesting the inhabitants; but their rapacity was more powerful than their habits of obedience, or even their dread of his displeasure, and they accordingly began to plunder. The instant Nadir heard of their disobedience, he ordered the offenders to be brought before him, and the officers were beheaded in his presence, and the private soldiers dismissed with the loss of their ears and noses. The executioners toiled till sun-set, when he commanded the headless trunks with their arms to be carried to the main-guard, and there to be exposed for two days, as an example to others. I was present the whole time, and saw the wonderful hand of God, which employs such instruments for the execution of his divine vengeance; although not one of the executioners was satisfied with Nadir Shah, yet nobody dared to disobey his commands:—a father beheaded his son, and a brother a brother, and yet presumed not to complain.—Abdul Kurreem.

Behold his lovely home,
By yonder broad-bough’d Plane o’ershaded.—IX. p. 84.

The plane-tree, that species termed the Platanus Orientalis, is commonly cultivated in Kashmire, where it is said to arrive at a greater perfection than in other countries. This tree, which in most parts of Asia is called the Chinur, grows to the size of an oak, and has a taper straight trunk, with a silver-coloured bark; and its leaf, not unlike an expanded hand, is of a pale green. When in full foliage, it has a grand and beautiful appearance; and, in the hot weather, it affords a refreshing shade.—Forster.

The Marriage-Bower.—IX. p. 85.

The Pandal is a kind of arbour or bower raised before the doors of young married women. They set up two or three poles, seven or eight foot in length, round which the leaves of the Pisan-tree, the symbol of joy, are entwined. These poles support others that are laid crossways, which are covered with leaves in order to form a shade. The Siriperes are allowed to set up no more than three pillars, and the infringing of this custom would be sufficient to cause an insurrection.—A. Roger, in Picart.

There, from the intolerable heat,
The buffaloes retreat.—IX. p. 87.

About noon, in hot weather, the buffalo throws herself into the water or mud of a tank, if there be one accessible at a convenient distance; and, leaving nothing above water but her nose, continues there for five or six hours, or until the heat abates.—Buchanan.

In the hot season, when water becomes very scarce, the buffaloes avail themselves of any puddle they may find among the covers, wherein they roll and rub themselves, so as in a short time to change what was at first a shallow flat, into a deep pit, sufficient to conceal their own bulk. The humidity of the soil, even when the water may have been evaporated, is particularly gratifying to these animals, which cannot bear heat, and which, if not indulged in a free access to the water, never thrive.—Oriental Sports, vol. i. p. 259.

The buffalo not only delights in the water, but will not thrive unless it have a swamp to wallow in. There rolling themselves, they speedily work deep hollows, wherein they lay immersed. No place seems to delight the buffalo more than the deep verdure on the confines of jiels and marshes, especially if surrounded by tall grass, so as to afford concealment and shade, while the body is covered by the water. In such situations they seem to enjoy a perfect ecstacy, having in general nothing above the surface but their eyes and nostrils, the horns being kept low down, and consequently entirely hidden from view.—Oriental Sports, vol. ii. p. 49.

Captain Beaver describes these animals as to be found during the heat of the day in the creeks and on the shores of the island of Bulama, almost totally immerged in water, little more than their heads appearing above it.

The market-flag.—IX. p. 86.

Many villages have markets on particular days, when not only fruits, grain, and the common necessaries of life are sold, but occasionally manufactures of various descriptions. These markets are well known to all the neighbouring country, being on appointed days of the week, or of the lunar month; but, to remind those who may be travelling of their vicinity to the means of supply, a naugaurah, or large kettle-drum, is beat during the forenoon, and a small flag, usually of white linen, with some symbolic figure in colours, or with a coloured border, is hoisted on a very long bamboo, kept upright by means of ropes fastened to pins driven into the ground. The flags of Hindoo villages are generally square and plain; those of the Mussulmans towns are ordinarily triangular, and bear the type of their, religion, viz. a double-bladed scymitar.—Oriental Sports, vol. i. p. 100.

Mount Meru.—X. p. 93.

According to the orthodox Hindus, the globe is divided into two hemispheres, both called Meru; but the superior hemisphere is distinguished by the name of Sumeru, which implies beauty and excellence, in opposition to the lower hemisphere, or Cumeru, which signifies the reverse: By Meru, without any adjunct, they generally mean the higher or northern hemisphere, which they describe with a profusion of poetic imagery as the seat of delights: while they represent Cumeru as the dreary habitation of demons, in some parts intensely cold, and in others so hot that the waters are continually boiling. In strict propriety, Meru denotes the pole and the polar regions; but it is the celestial north pole round which they place the gardens and metropolis of Indra, while Yama holds his court in the opposite polar circle, or the Station of Asuras, who warred with the Suras, or gods of the firmament.—Wilford. Asiatic Researches.

In the Vayu Puráná, we are told, that the water, or Ogha of the ocean, coming down from heaven like a stream of Amrita upon Meru, encircles it through seven channels, for the space of 84,000 Yojanas, and then divides into four streams, which, falling from the immense height of Meru, rest themselves in four lakes, from which they spring over the mountains through the air, just brushing the summits. This wild account was not unknown in the west; for this passage is translated almost verbally, by Pliny and Q. Curtius, in speaking of the Ganges. Cum magno fragore ipsius statim fontis Ganges erumpit, et magnorum montium juga recto alveo stringit, et ubi primum mollis planities contingat, in quodam lacu hospitatur. The words in Italics are from Pliny (vi. c. 18.) the others from Curtius (viii. c. 9.)—Capt. Wilford. As. Res. vol. viii. p. 322. Calcutta edition.

The Swarganga, or Mandacini, rises from under the feet of Veeshno, at the polar star, and, passing through the circle of the moon, it falls upon the summit of Meru; where it divides into four streams, flowing toward the four cardinal points. These four branches pass through four rocks, carved into the shape of four heads of different animals. The Ganges running towards the south passes through a cow’s head: To the west is a horse’s head, from which flows the Chaashu or Oxus; towards the east is the head of an elephant, from which flows the river Sita; and to the north is a lion’s head, from which flows the Bhadrasama.—Wilford. As. Res. vol. viii. 317. Calc. edition.

The mountains through which the Ganges flows at Hurdwar, present the spectator with the view of a grand natural amphitheatre; their appearance is rugged and destitute of verdure; they run in ridges and bluff points, in a direction east and west: At the back of the largest range, rise, towering to the clouds, the lofty mountains of Himmalayah, whose tops are covered with perpetual snow, which, on clear days, present a most sublime prospect. Their large jagged masses, broken into a variety of irregular shapes, added to their stupendous height, impress the mind with an idea of antiquity and grandeur coeval with the creation; and the eternal frost with which they are encrusted appears to preclude the possibility of mortals ever attaining their summit.

In viewing this grand spectacle of nature, the traveller may easily yield his assent to, and pardon the superstitious veneration of the Hindoo votary, who, in the fervour of his imagination, assigns the summit of these icy regions as the abode of the great Mahadeo, or First Cause, where, seated on his throne of ice, he is supposed to receive the homage of the surrounding universe.—Franklin’s Life of George Thomas, p. 41.

At Gangóttara, three small streams fall down from impassable snowy precipices, and unite into a small bason below, which is considered by the Hindus as the source of the Ganges, over which, at that place, a man can step. This is one of the five Tirthas, or stations, more eminently sacred than the rest upon this sacred river. Narayana Shastri, who gave this account, had visited it.—Buchanan.

The mountain, called Cailasa Cungri is exceedingly lofty. On its summit there is a Bhowjputr tree, from the root of which sprouts or gushes a small stream, which the people say is the source of the Ganges, and that it comes from Vaicont’ha, or Heaven, as is also related in the Puránas; although this source appears to the sight to flow from the spot where grows this Bhowjputr tree, which is at an ascent of some miles; and yet above this there is a still loftier summit, where no one goes: But I have heard that, on that uppermost pinnacle, there is a fountain or cavity, to which a Jogui somehow penetrated, who, having immersed his little finger in it, it became petrified.—Purana Poori. Asiatic Researches.

Respecting the true source of the Ganges much uncertainty still prevails. In vain one of the most powerful sovereigns of Indostan, the emperor Acbar, at the close of the sixteenth century, sent a number of men, an army of discoverers, provided with every necessary, and the most potent recommendations, to explore the course of the mighty river which adorned and fertilised the vast extent of his dominions. They were not able to penetrate beyond the famous Mouth of the Cow. This is an immense aperture, in a ridge of the mountains of Thibet, to which the natives of India have given this appellation, from the fancied or real resemblance of the rocks which form the stupendous chasm, to the mouth of an animal esteemed sacred throughout Indostan from the remotest antiquity. From this opening the Ganges, precipitating itself into a large and deep bason at the foot of the mountains, forms a cataract, which is called Gangotri. The impracticability of scaling these precipitous rocks, and advancing beyond this formidable pass, has prevented the tracing whence this rushing mass of water takes its primary rise.—Wilcocke, Note to Stavorinus.

The birth of Ganges.—X. p. 94.

I am indebted to Sir William Jones’s Hymn to Ganga for this fable:

“Above the stretch of mortal ken, On bless’d Cailasa’s top, where every stem Glow’d with a vegetable gem, Mahe’sa stood, the dread and joy of men; While Párvati, to gain a boon, Fix’d on his locks a beamy moon, And hid his frontal eye, in jocund play, With reluctant sweet delay. All nature straight was lock’d in dim eclipse, Till Brahmans pure, with hallow’d lips, And warbled prayers, restored the day; When Ganga from his brow, by heavenly fingers press’d, Sprang radiant, and, descending, graced the caverns of the west.”

The descent of the Ganges is related in the Ramayuna, one of the most celebrated of the sacred books of the Bramins. This work the excellent and learned Baptist missionaries at Serampore are at this time employed in printing and translating; one volume has arrived in Europe, and from it I am tempted here to insert an extract of considerable length. The reader will be less disposed to condemn the fictions of Kehama as extravagant, when he compares them with this genuine specimen of Hindoo fable. He will perceive, too, that no undue importance has been attributed to the Horse of the Sacrifice in the Poem.

“The son of Kooshika having, in mellifluous accents, related these things to Rama, again addressed the descendant of Kakootitha. Formerly, O hero! there was a king of Hyoodhya, named Sagura, the Sovereign of Men, virtuous, desirous of children, but childless; O Rama! the daughter of Vidurbhakeshinee, virtuous, attached to truth, was his chief consort, and the daughter of Urishtunemi, Soomuti, unequalled in beauty, his second spouse. With these two consorts, the great king, going to Himuvat, engaged in sacred austerities on the mountain in whose sacred stream Bhrigoo constantly bathed. A hundred years being completed, the sage Bhrigoo, clothed with truth, rendered propitious by his austerities, granted him this blessing: O sinless One! thou shalt obtain a most numerous progeny; thy fame, O chief of men! will be unparalleled in the universe. From one of thy consorts, O sire! shall spring the founder of thy race, and, from the other, sixty thousand sons.

“The queens, pleased, approached the chief of men who was thus speaking, and, with hands respectfully joined, asked, O Brahman! whose shall be the one son, and who shall produce the multitude? We, O Brahman! desire to hear. May thy words be verified. Hearing their request, the most virtuous Bhrigoo replied in these admirable words: Freely say which of these favours ye desire, whether the one, founder of the family, or the multitude of valiant, renowned, energetic sons. O Rama! son of Rughoo, Keshinee hearing the words of the sage, in the presence of the king accepted the one son, the founder of the family; and Soomuti, sister of Soopurna, accepted the sixty thousand sons, active and renowned. The king, O son of Rughoo! having respectfully circumambulated the sage, bowing the head, returned with his spouses to his own city.

“After some time had elapsed, his eldest spouse Keshinee bore to Sugura a son, named Usumunja; and Soomuti, O chief of men! brought forth a gourd, from which, on its being opened, came forth sixty thousand sons. These, carefully brought up by their nurses, in jars filled with clarified butter, in process of time attained the state of youth; 4 and, after a long period, the sixty thousand sons of Sugura, possessed of youth and beauty, became men. The eldest son, the offspring of Sugura, O son of Rughoo! chief of men, seizing children, would throw them into the waters of the Suruyoo, and sport himself with their drowning pangs. This evil person, the distresser of good men, devoted to the injury of the citizens, was by his father expelled from the city. The son of Usumunja, the heroic Ungshooman, in conversation courteous and affectionate, was esteemed by all.

“After a long time, O chief of men! Sugura formed the steady resolve, “I will perform a sacrifice.” Versed in the Veda, the king, attended by his instructors, having determined the things relating to the sacrificial work, began to prepare the sacrifice.

“Hearing the words of Vishwa-mitra, the son of Rughoo, highly gratified in the midst of the story, addressed the sage, bright as the ardent flame, Peace be to Thee: I desire, O Brahman! to hear this story at large, how my predecessors performed the sacrifice. Hearing his words, Vishwa-mitra, smiling, pleasantly replied to Rama: “Attend, then, O Rama! to the story of Sugura, repeated at full length. Where the great mountain Himuvat, the happy father-in-law of Shunkura, and the mountain Bindhyo, overlooking the country around, proudly vie with each other, there was the sacrifice of the great Sugura performed. That land, sacred and renowned, is the habitation of Rakshuses. At the command of Sugura, the hero Ungshooman, O Rama! eminent in archery, a mighty charioteer, was the attendant (of the horse. 5 ) While the king was performing the sacrifice, a serpent, assuming the form of Ununta, rose from the earth, and seized the sacrificial horse. The sacrificial victim being stolen, all the priests, O son of Rughoo! going to the king, said, Thy consecrated horse has been stolen by some one in the form of a serpent. Kill the thief, and bring back the sacred horse. This interruption in the sacrifice portends evil to us all. Take those steps, O king! which may lead to the completion of the sacrifice. Having heard the advice of his instructors, the king, calling his sixty thousand sons into the assembly, said, I perceive that the Rakshuses have not been to this great sacrifice. A sacrifice of the Nagas is now performing by the sages, and some god, in the form of a serpent, has stolen the devoted horse. Whoever he be, who, at the time of the Deeksha, has been the cause of this afflictive circumstance, this unhappy event, whether he be gone to Patala, or whether he remain in the waters, kill him, O sons! and bring back my victim. May success attend you, O my sons! At my command traverse the sea-girt earth, digging with mighty labour, till you obtain a sight of the horse; each one piercing the earth to the depth of a yojunga, go you in search of him who stole the sacred horse. Being consecrated by the Deeksha, I, with my grandson and my teachers, will remain with the sacrifice unfinished, till I again behold my devoted horse.

“Thus instructed by their father Sugura, they, in obedience to him, went with cheerful mind, O Rama! to the bottom of the earth. The strong ones, having gone over the earth without obtaining a sight of the horse, each of these mighty men pierced the earth, to the depth of a yojuna, with their mighty arm, the stroke of which resembled the thunder-bolt. Pierced by Kooddalas, 6 by Purighas, 7 by Shoolas, 8 by Mooshulas, 9 and Shuktis, 10 the earth cried out as in darkness. Then arose, O Raghuva! a dreadful cry of the serpents, the Usooras, the Rakshuses, and other creatures, as of beings suffering death. These angry youths, O son of Rughoo! dug the earth even to Patala, to the extent of sixty thousand yojunas. Thus, O prince! the sons of the sovereign of men traversed Jumboodweepa, inclosed with mountains, digging wherever they came. The gods now, with the Gundburwas and the great serpents, struck with astonishment, went all of them to Bruhma, and, bowing even to the foot of the great spirit, they, full of terror, with dejected countenance, addressed him thus: “O Deva! O divine One! the whole earth, covered with mountains and woods, with rivers and continents, the sons of Sugura are now digging up. By these digging, O Bruhma! the mightiest beings are killed. This is the stealer of our consecrated victims; by this (fellow) our horse was taken away:” Thus saying, these sons of Sugura destroy all creatures. O most powerful! having heard this, it becomes thee to interpose, before these horse-seekers destroy all thy creatures endued with life.”

Thus far the thirty-second Section, describing the digging of earth.

SECTION THIRTY-THREE.

“Hearing the words of the gods, the divine Bruhma replied to these affrighted ones, stupified with the Yuma-like power of these youths: The wise Vasoo-deva, the great Madhuva, who claims the earth for his spouse, that divine one, residing in the form of Kupila, supports the earth. By the fire of his wrath he will destroy the sons of the king. This piercing of the earth must, I suppose, be perceived by him, and he will (effect) the destruction of the long-sighted sons of Sugura. The thirty-three gods, 11 enemy-subduing, having heard the words of Bruhma, returned home full of joy. The sons of Sugura, highly renowned, thus digging the earth, a sound was produced resembling that of conflicting elements. Having encompassed and penetrated the whole earth, the sons of Sugura, returning to their father, said, The whole earth has been traversed by us; and all the powerful gods, the Danuvas, the Ruckshuses, the Pishachas, the serpents, and hydras, are killed 12 ; but we have not seen thy horse, nor the thief. What shall we do? Success be to thee: be pleased to determine what more is proper. The virtuous king, having heard the words of his sons, O son of Rughoo! angrily replied, Again commence digging. Having penetrated the earth, and found the stealer of the horse, having accomplished your intention, return again. Attentive to the words of their father, the great Sugura, the sixty thousand descended to Patala, and there renewed their digging. There, O chief of men! they saw the elephant of that quarter of the globe, in size resembling a mountain, with distorted eyes, supporting with his head this earth, with its mountains and forests, covered with various countries, and adorned with numerous cities. When, for the sake of rest, O Kakootstha! the great elephant, through distress, refreshes himself by moving his head, an earthquake is produced.

“Having respectfully circumambulated this mighty elephant, guardian of the quarter, they, O Rama! praising him, penetrated into Patala. After they had thus penetrated the east quarter, they opened their way to the south. Here they saw that great elephant Muha-pudma, equal to a huge mountain, sustaining the earth with his head. Beholding him, they were filled with surprise; and, after the usual circumambulation, the sixty thousand sons of the great Sugura perforated the west quarter. In this these mighty ones saw the elephant Soumunusa, of equal size. Having respectfully saluted him, and enquired respecting his health, these valiant ones digging, arrived at the north. In this quarter, O chief of Rughoo! they saw the snow-white elephant Bhudra, supporting this earth with his beautiful body. Circumambulating him, they again penetrated the earth, and proceeded north-east to that renowned quarter; all the sons of Sugura, through anger, pierced the earth again. There all those magnanimous ones, terrible in swiftness, and of mighty prowess, saw Kupila, Vasodeva the eternal, 13 and near him the horse feeding. Filled, O son of Rughoo! with unparalleled joy, they all knowing him to be the stealer of the horse, with eyes starting with rage, seizing their spades and their langulas, and even trees and stones, ran towards him full of wrath, calling out, Stop, stop! thou art the stealer of our sacrificial horse: Thou stupid one, know that we who have found thee are the sons of Rughoo. Kupila, filled with excessive anger, uttered from his nostrils a loud sound, and instantly, O Kakootstha! by Kupila of immeasurable power, were all the sons of Sugura turned to a heap of ashes.”

Thus far the thirty-third Section, describing the interview with Kupila.