SHOSHEE CHUNDEE DUTT, SECOND SERIES. IMAGINATIVE, DESCRIPTIVE, AND METRICAL. IX SIX VOLTMI-JS. VOL. IV. THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. " Very true, my lord," replied the physician ; " however, I ain of opinion that you ought not to eat of these rabbits, as being a hairy, furry, sort of food ; nor would I have you taste that veal. Indeed, if it were neither roasted nor parboiled, some- thing might be said ; but, as it is, it must not be." " Well, then," said Sancho, " what think you of this huge dish here that smokes so? I take it to be an olla podrida ; mid' that, being a hodge-podge of so many sorts of victuals, sure I cannot but light upon something here that will nick me, and be both wholesome and toothsome." Don Quixote. I.OXDOX: LOVELL KEKVE AND CO., 5, HENRIETTA STREET, COVMNT (iARDEN. 1885. [_All ri'jlifg reserved."] For my own part, notwithstanding the general malevolence towards those who communicate their thoughts in print, I cannot but look with a friendly regard on such as do it, provided there is no tendency in their writings to vice and profaneness. If the thoughts of such authors have nothing in them, the}', at least, do no harm, and show an honest industry, and a good intention in the composer. ADDISON Freeholder, No. 40. THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR; HIS ERRATIC WANDERINGS AND EVENTUAL RETURN : J5 iny a Record "f Life, Manners, and Events in Bengal of from Forty to Fifty Years ago. SHOSHEE CHUNDER DUTT. Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart, untravell'd, fondly turns to thee, S ..ill to my mother turns. GOLDSMITH'S Traveller (slightly altered). I LONDON : LOVELL REEVE AND CO., 5, HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 1885. [All rights reserved.'] Annex PR CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. THE RAIS OP Box! GHAT .... 7 II. THE DEW AN 's MELA 13 III. THE FIRST EXERCISE OF AUTHORITY . . 20 IV. THE REFERENCE TO THE DEITY ... 27 V. THE SABAIT'S STORY 34 VI. THE LECTURE AT HOME .... 40 VIE. THE FERAZEE RISING} 48 VIII. A MYSTERIOUS BURGLARY . ... 55 IX. IN THE TRAP AT LAST . .... 61 X. ASSERTION OF CIVIL AUTHORITY, AND ITS RESULTS . G9 XL THE FIRE PUT OUT, AND THE RUN FOR A- SHAVE ....... 74 XII. THE REVELATION 81 XIII. THE LOVES OF THE RIVERS ... 87 XIV. A MYSTERIOUS LETTER .... 95 XV. HOOKED AGAIN 103 XVI. THE FOREST RISING 110 XVII. REBELLION IN THE KOLEHAX, AND HOW IT WAS EXTINGUISHED ..... 118 XVIII. A MOTHER'S DISTRESS. . . . 124 B 2 CONTE^ 7 TS. CHAPTER PAGE XIX. INUNDATION, FAMINE, PESTILENCE, AND DEATH 131 XX. THE ZOHUE STONE 138 XXI. THE EMISSABY AGAIN, AND A STEP- MOTHEE'S STOET .... 145 XXII. JAGGANATH SB JAI . . . .154 XX1IL THE MINE EEADY ONCE MOEE . . 161 XXIV. THE CHILKA LAKE, AND THE STOET OF THE SEUPEXT'S ROCK .... 170 XXV. THE NEW REBELLION . . . .178 XXVI. THE BEDIYA DOMES . . . .187 XXVII. ADAYSTO 195 XXVIII. HOME, AS MONOHUE FOUND IT . . 203 XXIX. THE PAEAMHANGSA . . . .211 XXX. THE SHASTBIC SCHEME . . . .219 XXXI. THE NEW AERIVAL . . . .227 XXXII. THE JAL RAJ^H OF BUBDWAN . . 234 XXXIII. BYJANATH, OB DEOGUEH . . . 242 XXXIV. AT GAYA 250 XXXV. SAKYA, AND SOME STOEIES ABOUT HIM . 258 XXXVI. AT BENA"BES 267 XXXVII. STOEIES ABOUT THE DAESHYA JAGYA, AND THE PlSACH MoCHAlf .. . 277 XXXVIII. THE NAWAB'S RULE . . . .285 XXXIX. THE RAMAYANA, AND A MISSING CHAP- TEE OF HlSTOEY EECOVEEED . . 294 XL. THE DHATOOBA POISONEE . . . 303 XLT. THE MAHABHABUT HEABD AND SIFTED . 309 XLII. MlEACLES OVEE THE DEAD . 319 CONTENTS. 5 CHAPTEE PAGE XLIII. THE MAID OF KOHILE.UND .... 326 XLIV. HIMALAYAN STORIES, AND A NEW BOUTE TO CHINA . 341 XLV. A TRUE DESCRIPTION OF CHINA, WITH A So AND Do WIFE STORY IN THE BAR- GAIN 349 XL VI. AT PATNA, AND ABOUT THE MOHUBBUM . 357 XLVII. A MOHURRUM QUABBEL .... 364 XLVIII. AT ECHAPOBE 371 XLIX. THE AGQBIEVED VYSNUBI . . . .379 L. THE NIGHT CONFEEENCE, AND EECONCILIA- TION OF ACCOUNTS 385 LI. A CHANGE OF MASTEBS .... 393 LII. ESTABLISHED AT ECHAPOBE . . . 398 LIII. AT BONA GHAT, AND ABOUT AN INDIGO DISPUTE 405 LIV. THE ENGLISH VERSUS THE MAHOMEDANS . 413 LV. THE HOGS 421 LYI. THE DEVIL NOT so BLACK AS HE is PAINTED 427 LVII. THE QUESTION MOOTED .... 433 LVIII. THE KNOT TIED HABD .... 442 LIX. THE EETUBN TO BONA GHAT 449 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. CHAPTER I. THE RAIS OF BONA GHAT. THERE is a place named Bona Ghat, on the banks of the Bhetna Nuddee, in Pergunnah Datteah, of 24-Pergun- nahs, in the province of Bengal, which is well situated, and surrounded on all sides by a fairly cultivated and flourishing country. It is now a small and almost insignificant village, but in times past was the head- quarters of a family of Rais, or Zemindars, who had the reputation of great wealth and power, several of the members being further described as being good and humane landlords, who did much service in their day to the poor. The story about them says that they possessed a fort and a palace in the village, which were occupied by the family for nearly a century, and the remains of the first were yet traceable on the ground during the earlier years of the English power, though scarcely attesting at that time to the might or affluence which the building had originally symbolised. The palace, or residence, of the Rais seems to have been rebuilt some forty years ago, and is yet standing; but its present condition is very 8 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. ruinous, owing to the family having since got poor, and being now represented by some minor children only, whose guardians, in the usual native fashion, have en- riched themselves at the expense of their wards. The more remarkable peculiarities of the village to this day are : a large mango-grove, commencing from a short distance to the west of the Zemindar's house, and ex- tending over nearly fifty acres of land, several tanks of clean and wholesome water, and the neighbourhood of the Nuddee referred to, all which advantages together render the spot too well-fitted for the purposes of a fair for that circumstance to have been overlooked. Markets are accordingly held at the place on two days of the week, besides which a meld is celebrated there annually during the Barooni festival in March, which goes by the name of the Deviaris Mela, on the following account. The Zemindars of Bona Ghat were Brahmans, de- scended from Bhatta Narayana of the Sandilya family, the chief of the five pure Brahmans who came to Bengal from Kanouj, and from whom the Rajahs of Nuddea also claim their descent. The founder of the family was one Bistoo Hari Sandyal, who came to Bona Ghat with the intent of leading the life of an anchorite there. But his son, Srimanta, who was of a more pug- nacious character, having followed him thither, succeeded in a short time to secure all the wealth of the pergunnah by various means, after which he got his usurpations confirmed by the Nawab of Moorshedabad, who was glad to accept the presents that were offered to him, accom- panied as they were by a promise of an increased Jchd&a/nd, or revenue, for the imperial treasury. The fifth in succession to Srimanta was Hullodhur Sandyal, who rendered great services to the Nawab, in THE RAlS OF BONA GHAT. 9 connection with, the Mahratta incursions, and, having amassed an immense fortune during those disturbances, was enabled to augment his ancestral estate still further by buying up and adding thereto the estates of several defaulting Zemiudai'S. The title of Rai was now con- ferred on him by the Nawab for his services to the State, and this was assumed by the family in place of the sept name of " Sandyal," which had intermediately become plebeian ; and the palace and fortress at Bona Ghat were both erected by Hullodhur, with the express permission of the Nawab. We need not follow the family-history of the Rais further. Rughoonath Rai was the Zemindar of Bona Ghat when the battle of Plassey was fought and lost, and, as all the adherents of the Nawab were obliged to fly, Rughoonath with his family proceeded in the direction of Dhumraii, in the hope of cutting his way through the Soonderbuns to Jagganath. Whether he did reach Jagganath or not was never known, for no tidings of his arrival there were ever received at Bona Ghat. The wife of the pilgrim was overtaken with the pains of labour on the banks of the Kool-Kooli Nullah, on the borders of the Soonderbuns, upon which she was deserted by her husband and left to her fate, and, being shortly after delivered of a boy, lay with her child in a dense jungle helpless and alone. Both the mother and child would have been inevitably destroyed by wild beasts but for having been accidentally discovered by a kind-hearted godidh, or herdsman, named Nobin, who had come to the spot in search of his cows, just when the lady had recovered her senses and was looking uncomfortably about herself. She was prevailed upon by him to take refuge with her son in his house iu io THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. the absence of any better place to go to; and in the course of a few years Koolaye Goalah, the reputed son of Nobin, became a strapping cowherd, respected and feared by other cowherd boys of the same age. Within these ten or twelve years the British Raj had been fully established all over Bengal, and the wife of Rughoonath, not having heard from her husband, thought it high time now to go back to Datteah in the interests of her son. 1 ' What do you want to go to Datteah for ? " asked Nobin, when the matter was broached to him. " Have you any friends in that quarter ? " " Yes, we had relations and friends there/' said the lady, "but do not know whether they are living or dead. My son is shooting up into youth, and I want to intro- duce him to my uncle, who was a well-to-do chdsd of Bona Ghat." The lady still kept the secret of her former life she hardly knew wherefore. She was afraid that things had gone wrong both at Datteah and with the fugitive Zemindar. Why should poor Koolaye Chand then know anything whatever in respect to his real position in life, merely to get discontented with his present lot ? " It is well to go and know the worst of it now, if only to be relieved of the suspense that has been weighing so heavily on us," thought the lady to herself. " We shall be able to shape our future course better after the mystery that envelopes us has been cleared up/' And she went forward accordingly with a resolute heart, accompanied by Nobin and her son. They reached Bona Ghat with various feelings, the Zemindar's lady in expectation and silence, but quite unable to arrange her thoughts ; Nobin watching her THE RAlS OF BONA GHAT. n face thoughtfully, but without being able to read her heart; Koolaye Chand, with the usual hilarity of his years, enjoying himself as boys only can whenever there is anything new to look at or hunt for. " Well, we have arrived at Bona Ghat at last/' said Nobin, " and fortunately before nightfall. The gurh and the palace of the Rais are before us. In what direction do we go now to find out the relative you seek ? " " I really do not know," said the Zemindar's lady, with a sigh, looking steadfastly at her family -residence, which was gradually becoming undistinguishable in the gloom. " Can we not make inquiries of him at the big house before us ? " They groped their way up accordingly to the Zemin- dar's house, and noiselessly pushed open the outer gate ; but the building was tenantless, and it was considered unsafe to enter it at that hour. " Since we don't exactly know where this friend of yours lives it would be best, I think/' said Nobin, " to take up our quarters for the night at the village inn, if there be any such place here ;" and, this being agreed to, they went back to the public road, and pursued it till they came to a moodi's shop, which represented a lodging- house for strangers. The proprietor was accommodat- ing, and gave them a couple of small rooms to rest in, and, as they were tired with their day's journey, they were very anxious to go to sleep. One of the rooms was therefore quickly taken up by the lady and her son, and the other by Nobin, who got a lamp from the moodi and placed it at a door which joined the two apartments. " Ha ! whom have we here ? " exclaimed the moodi, who had followed Nobin, and was looking attentively at 12 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. the lady's face. "0, my honoured mistress, are you come home at last, and in such plight as this ? " " Are you quite sure that you know me ? " asked the lady in excessive fright. " Who do you take me for that you address me as your mistress ? " " Who do I take you for ? Who can I take you for, but your own good self, and the owner of all these estates ? Every feature, every line of your kind face is imprinted in our recollections. You have become older and thinner now than before, but you are our own dear mother still, and can never, never be forgotten by us." There was no denying the honour further ; the poor have very retentive memories, and the virtues of the Zemindar's lady had made her servants her friends. The moodi had been one of her household lackeys, and this the lady recollected just as much as he remembered the mistress he had served. The story of the lady and her son was listened to with intense interest by the whole village of Bona Ghat on the following morning, and Koolaye Chand hud no diffi- culty in assuming possession of his ancestral estates and importance. Nobin offered to return to his obscurity and a herdsman's life ; but this neither Koolaye Chand nor his mother would permit. They made him the Zemindar's Dewdn, and after his death the meld we have spoken of was established to commemorate his worth. THE DE WAN'S MELA. 13 CHAPTER II. THE DEWAN'S MELA. WE must here at the very commencement take a leap over sixty years and more, to introduce the reader to the eventful period of 1831, when the young Zemindar of the day, Monohur Rai, the great-grandson of Koolaye Chand Rai, had just attained his majority, or the age of eighteen, and was bent on solemnising the event along with the Dewan's Mela, which Lad fallen in at the same time, with the greatest eclat. He was a fine specimen of a high-bred Bengali youth, of slim but wiry build, with an expressive and handsome face scarcely disfigured by a pair of small and deep-set eyes, and having many good qualities of the heart, mixed unfortunately with an intense, or im- moderate, love for frolics and adventures. " I am determined to make the present meld an immense success,'" said he, " so that it may never cease to be remembered, and you must not scold me for that, mother mine ! " " Be it so/' replied the mother, a lady thirty-five or thirty-six years old, of rather delicate features, but having a peculiar air of amiability and truthfulness about her, blended with a slight tinge of sadness for her widowed state. "But take care, my son, that you do not mark it with any discredit to your house and family- name." 14 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. " 0, mother, have I not become a big man now, and don't I know how to uphold the family honours ? You will soon hear from all sides how well the people will speak of me; and won't you be proud, Ma, of having such a youth for your son ? " " Heaven bless and prosper you in everything, Mono- hur ! " returned the lady, with a sad, sweet smile. " But I am sure it would please me better to see you applying to your work as diligently as your ancestors did, than that you should be going about gathering praises from the mob at a meld. Empty praises from the mass must not turn your young head, my son. You run so fre- quently after frolics and adventures that you really do alarm me at times." " Ah, mother dear ! just look down on the mango- grove yonder and see what a multitude of men have assembled there to celebrate my majority- day. Can you possibly disapprove of my furthering their enjoyment to the best of my power, when they have met so eagerly solely for the purpose of welcoming me as their lord and master ? We shall have business, pleasure, frolic, and adventures all in concert there, and, surely, they can be united together in a meld. Can they not ? " " Yes, to a certain extent they can," answered the lady ; " but the present is no fit occasion for frolic and pleasure, and all business cannot be associated with them, as you seem to think, Monohur. Some very important matters have suddenly and unexpectedly thrust themselves forward into notice which demand our immediate attention, and it is very unfortunate indeed that the meld comes up just at this particular time." " 0, mother ! we cannot defer the meld, you know, for it has certain days, and those only, fixed for it. But your THE DE WAN'S MELA. 15 other business, of whatever importance, can surely lie over for the time for only three short days, dear mother after which I shall be as wholly attentive to it as you yourself may direct." Saying this he bounced out of the house almost without waiting- for his parent to reply, to superintend the meld preparations on which his whole heart was set, and which, sooth to say, were not very indifferently regarded by the lady herself, for all the brave words she had spoken to her son. It was a grand meld, and an immense multitude, variously reckoned at from ten to fifteen thousand persons, were congregated within the mango-grove to celebrate it. There were all kinds of men among them, from the chdsd and the cowherd, who had taken short leave of their fields, to the Hindu Mohunt, and the Mahomedau Fakir who had emerged from their retreats to take part in the festivity ; and even the village girls and matrons had ceased working for the time at their cllicnld and with the hoold, 1 though such immunity from labour falls rarely to their lot. The Zemindar had offered to provide accommodation and convenience for all who came, and had spared no expense in doing justice to what he had undertaken. From an early hour all was stir and animation on the part of his people throughout the grove, and while several places were got ready with seats and canopies for the convenience of the more respectable visitors when they got tired of walking over the grounds, booths were erected in different directions for distributing sweetmeats and fruits among those who might seek for them, and 1 I.e, at threshing corn. 1 6 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. others for the grant of largesses of money among the Brahmans and the poor. One centrical spot, provided with a da'is and a rich canopy over it, was especially reserved for the Zemindar ; and the birds of the grove gave a charm to the tree-tops around it, preferring its neighbourhood to all others for reasons best known to themselves, and adding therefrom their melodious voices to soften, as it were, the general clamour arising from every side. There was business and pleasure certainly united at the meld, as the boy-Zemindar had unthinkingly asserted, the first being represented by the products of the country brought to it for sale, and the second by the amusements which were generally indulged in. Here were displayed paddy and grains of diverse sorts ; there ghee, oil, sugar, molasses, fruits and vegetables, curds and sweetmeats ; and, further on again, clothes, mats, pottery, straw and bamboo ware, brass ornaments, and metal utensils of all kinds everything, in fact, which was in use in, or could be useful to, village life. But even the sellers of the articles were not engrossed in clearing their bargains, for the games and amusements of the meld were shared in by them almost as eagerly as by the rest. The boys of tender age were play ing jore-ke-bejore (odd or even) with great earnestness ; bigger lads were intent on the games of bdgbandi and mongul-pdthdn ; yet bigger ones were either for nooko-chooree or hddoo-gddoo, the latter known else- where as the kabddi. The men were similarly playing y/'. a silver pandan, and the like. ' To whom do these articles belong ? ' asked I of him, and he answered, ' To my master.' ' How then come they to be in your possession instead of being in his house ? ' ' He has left them with me. ' ' Wherefore should he have done so ? He has plenty of places in his own house to put them in.' ' He is not in his own house at present, and that is the reason that I also am going away from it.' ' Where is he now then ? ' ' How can I say ? I was not asked to watch his movements.'' '' "Ah, Nilkant, all this is perfectly unintelligible to me. The refusal of the man to answer the most im- portant of the questions that were put to him seems to me to be more fearful even than his revelations. I don't want to ask him anything myself ; I don't think I could endure even to see him. Take him away with you, and try to get out of him any tidings he may have of Mono- hur. I don't want to know more about the lost property. It comprised the savings of many years, and was meant to give my son a fair start in life. But, since since there is so much mystery about its disappearance, I don't want the veil to be removed. Only lefc me know where Mouohur is at this moment, and how he is to be brought back." Seeboo Sing was removed from the ante-room of the lady's apartment, and Nilkant, an old Zemindar's man, 128 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. knew better how to deal with him than any mere chow- keydar. His children, Goona and Choolia, a boy and a girl, were brought out of his house by order of the Surburakar, and were placed before him tied together by the hair. " Shall we plunge both these children together in the Bhetna, Seeboo, or will you tell us the little very little that you would not tell to the chowkeydar ? " " What is it that you want to know ? " " Where is the Zemindar now, and the bulk of the property that was stolen ? " " What do I know, sir ? How can I tell ? " "To the point, Seeboo, if you want to save your children. You know me of old, and I shall surely con- sign them both to the bottom of the river if I don't get a prompt and truthful reply/' " Why then, the Zemindar is with the Ferazees, and his property with him. They want to fight the English, and the Zemindar has had to find the money for the enterprise." " You can go home now with your children, Seeboo. I have no further questions to ask/' And with a heavy heart the Surburakar went back to his mistress's apartment, to impart to her the awful news which he had himself long previously anticipated. " The boy has gone clean mad then ! " said the poor mother with a sigh from her heart ; and she sank on her cushion shivering convulsively, and remained for some time in a state of utter unconsciousness. The explosion of the Ferazee affair was known all over Bengal within a few days after, and this forced the lady to get up from her bed to have her son searched for in every direction ; but all her endeavours were fruitless, A MOTHER'S DISTRESS. 129 for lie was not to be found. From this time everything Avent wrong with her; she heeded nothing; took no part even in her zemindary affairs, which she had always dili- gently attended to ever since her husband's death. For whole days she would sit down at one place, almost without moving; and, as the prospect of seeing her son became more and more remote, the gloaming of her mind deepened, and, from having been at one time a most active and intelligent specimen of her sex, she soon dwindled down into an almost imbecile state. "You are just killing yourself, lady," said Nilkant, " and without any certain cause. My impression is that Monohur, having got free of control, has rushed forth to see the world ; and I am certain that he will return to us as soon as he gets tired of his whim/' " That would be a hopeful anticipation indeed if I could persuade my mind to accept it ; but, 0, Nilkant, my fears will not allow me to do so." " But why, why should you allow your fears to master your judgment? Be as strong-minded, lady, as you showed yourself before under a yet greater affliction. Never was there more need for strength than now, for your senses are reeling." " I know that, Nilkant. My fears are killing me." "But what is it that you fear? Let me only know what shape your alarm has taken and I shall be able to judge whether it is really so well-grounded as you seem to suppose?" " This then," answered the lady, getting up from her seat : " Monohur has been seen with the Fakir, Sunyasi, or whatever the man may really be, after the explosion of the Ferazee revolt. We all know that, for the most part, these Fakirs and Sunyasis are monsters of the K 130 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. worst type. They affect to be incarnations of the Deity, but are in truth incarnate fiends. Monohur has money with him, and poisoning has become a recognised system now all over our country, as Thuggism is in the North- West. What so likely then but for this same Fakir, or others acting at his instigation, to give that potion to Monohur which, by depriving him of life, would enable them to get off with his wealth ? " " I assure you, lady, that your fears are groundless. You well know that I never had a liking for the Sunyasi or Fakir before ; but I have since ascertained that he bears a most excellent character, and has a large share of sound common sense, notwithstanding that his prin- ciples are misdirected. He is, in fact, the brother of our priest at the temple of Naggesur Mahadeva. He will do no harm to Monohur, though, when going wrong himself from an error of judgment, he will, of course, carry his protege along with him. As for money, Monohur has none with him now ; all the wealth of Bona Ghat was spent in maturing the Narkelberiah revolt. But, even if he had money with him, the Sunyasi is too wide-awake for either poisoner or Thug to operate against them." " I trust it may be as you say, Nilkant. I could die peaceably now if I but saw my Monohur's face once more." " Then live upon that hope, lady. There is no reason to conclude that Monohur will not return to us again." The mother's heart beat fast, and she tried to reason herself into the same belief with her manager, but could not. A presentiment of evil had come over her which she was unable to shake off, and she sank back to her seat with a groan. INUNDATION, FAMINE, ETC. 131 CHAPTER XIX. INUNDATION, FAMINE, PESTILENCE, AND DEATH. THE inundation of 1833 will long be remembered in the annals of Bengal for the distress caused by it in several places, and especially in various parts of the district of 24-Pergunuahs. The floods originated with the heavy rains in the Sub-Himalayan ranges, which were largely supplemented by continued wet weather throughout the country. In 24-Pergunnahs in particular there had been incessant rain for not less than three months, whereby all the lowlands in it were laid under water, which the river-channels, already suffering from their own accessions, were utterly inadequate to carry off. The rising of the rivers was very rapid, while some of them were affected besides by a peculiar bore, called the " Harpa," which carried away everything before it, drowning large numbers of men and cattle, and scavenger animals, such as dogs and jackals. This was especially the case with the Bhetna, and the sufferings caused thereby in Bona Ghat and the surrounding country were fearful. The alarm was quickly raised when the bore was seen to be coming ; but it came on quicker th.an the vil- lagers could fly, and whole families were swept away by it from their homes. In some places the water rose to the height of seven feet above the ground, and the people K 2 1 32 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. who were able to save themselves did so by occupying the upper branches of large and strong trees, the roofs of 2iuccd houses, and the chuppurs of straw and tiled huts ; or by floating on rafts, canoes, and boats, where they were able to catch them. The danger was so great that the most noxious animals and reptiles were rendered inoffensive by it. The cobra warmed itself by nestling close to the suckling mother; the wolf looked askance at but dared not molest the goat and sheep standing by his side. The horrors of the visitation were further augmented by a tremendous hurricane, which lasted a whole night, and uprooted many of the trees on which the poorer families had taken refuge ; and, unforeseeing such con- tingency, many unfortunate people were killed at the very moment they were congratulating themselves on their escape from the inundation. In almost all places whole families were without food for some three or four days, and when the waters did subside, the impossibility of finding anything to live upon forced many persons to commit suicide. " I am going to seek for food for all of us," was the plea put forth by many a father when bolt- ing away from his family to avoid seeing the distress he could not relieve ; and many a mother, tormented by the cries of her starving progeny, became so frantic as to destroy them, and then dashed out her own brains, not to survive those who were dearest to her. The mother of Monohur had a particularly heavy time in connection with these sufferings, as being sore at heart nt a juncture when she was called upon to do justice to the oppressive responsibility devolving on her. Many a battle is fought in private life which leaves but little trace for the careless chronicler to note upon, and such a battle had she to fight, and did fight with a stout and bursting INUNDATION, FAMINE, ETC. 133 heart. She applied herself to the duties of her position with an assiduity and singleness of purpose that called forth the honest praises of everybody who had an oppoi*- tuuity of knowing what she was doing. " Give everything to everybody liberally, Nilkant/' said she to her Surburakar. " Stint not. All, all we have,, is to be given away to those who are suffering. 0, Monohur, where are you at this moment ? Who shall assure me that some monstrous ' Harpa ' has not swept away my son to the sea ? " And in the midst of her large- hearted charity would the poor, forsaken woman be thus overcome by her fears, and lie down for hours as one bereft of motion. " Eise, lady, rise ! be what you ever were ; be equal to the occasion which demands the husbanding of all our energies. The country is not threatened with famine alone ; large gangs of men are moving through it armed with clubs and hatchets, breaking open and looting what- ever they can lay hands upon, and the police are power- less against them/' Without a murmur, if not without a pang, would tho lady rise forthwith after every such call, to work as bravely and unflinchingly as before, leaving, even on the Surburakar, the impress of a superior mind by the lucid and appropriate orders she gave him to carry out. " If we have robbers now to contend with, Nilkant, you must get our men together, and employ even tho plunderers themselves in our service, and pay them, and feed them, and bid them protect our ryots from depreda- tion. The greatness of our ancestors was given to them in trust only. In the day of their trouble the poor have a right to our protection and assistance, and must have both." And well did the afflicted lady, drying her tears, i 3 4 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. follow up her words by her acts, by protecting the hap- less, and setting up all those who had broken down by rendering timely assistance to them in rebuilding or securing their houses, drying up their grains, and providing supplies of other food and clothing. Dreadful were the troubles which were thus encoun- tered and overcome ; but there were more yet to pass through. After the waters had subsided, after lawless- ness was put down, after the immediate demands of hunger and nakedness were supplied and satisfied, there came forth another enemy more difficult to contend with than either inundation or famine. Disease in the shapes of cholera and fever set in, both of the worst type, and originating apparently from rotten crops and fetid slime ; and they were so widely spread in a short time that the few who were not attacked could do little to relieve the many who were. Even against this enemy did the lady of Bona Ghat fight most willingly and courageously to begin with, sending out kobirajes and medicines in every direction, and assistance of every de- scription that was wanted. But the excitement was too much for her enfeebled frame. Unsoothed in mind and unrefreshed in body she had laboured so strenuously as to get thoroughly exhausted ; and she was now stricken down by a fever which bereft her of what little strength had hitherto remained to her. " You -are looking very ill, lady ; you have over-exerted yourself, and must take rest rest both of body and of mind/' " Rest ! what rest ? If you mean sleep, I can get none of it ; or, if there be any at times, it does not refresh me." " Nor will it if you continue to torture your mind as INUNDATION, FAMINE, ETC. 135 you have done so continuously. 0, lady, remember that, if anything goes wrong with you, everything will go wrong with the household and the estate." The lady raised her eyes towards the face of her Sur- burdkar, as if she wished to understand the meaning of his words fully. " Ah, you are trying to frighten me, Nilkant; but nothiug surely has gone wrong with me yet. It is only the cramped atmosphere around us that chokes rne. O, that we had a breath of fresh air now to dissipate this suffocating closeness ! " " Xo, lady, I would not alarm you for the world. But you look pale, and your eyes are restless, and, if you are not suffering from illness, you must be suffering from exhaustion/' Her eyes had the weary, hopeless, and restless expres- sion which tells clearly of a heart that is comfortless and breaking ; but, besides that, there was also an unaccount- able pallor on her face, unaccountable if she had really no illness to complain of, as she said. " I have no bodily ailment to speak of, Nilkant," re- peated she once more. " I feel weaker surely much weaker indeed than I have ever felt before ; but have we not worked harder for some time now than is our wont ? and does not that account for the loss of strength fully ? " She maintained over and over again that nothing ailed her ; but the evidence of her face was unmistakable, and became more and more striking day by day, till the fever developed itself with delirium, which was at times so wild that they had the greatest difficulty in keeping her to her bed. The one only idea that haunted her now was that her son was hiding himself from her, and all her struggles and ravings were for reaching him. 136 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. " He is not dead. It is not so bad as that. He has been wheedled away from me. He is willing to come back now, but they will not allow him. I see him fre- quently passing by me ; but a dense cloud comes invari- ably between us which I cannot penetrate. 0, Xilkant, why hast thou removed my son from me, my handsome and noble-hearted boy ? Why won't you allow him to come back to his mother's arms ? " " Be calm, lady ; be patient, for the love of God, and I will tell you all I know of him. I am labouring day and night to bring him back to you ; and he shall come back if you will only bear up till I am able to bring him hither." The face of the lady was now illuminated by an un- utterable expression of gratitude, and, while her heart beat rapidly with expectation, the delirium she was suf- fering from was checked momentarily, as if by magic. " Have you heard of Monohur lately, Nilkant ? Have you got any certain tidings of his whereabouts yet ? " ' ' Yes, lady ; they are vague scraps only at present, but still the tidings are such as should reassure your mind. You were afraid lest he should have suffered from the inundations that visited us, but my informant writes that, when last seen, he was in the high and dry lands of Western Bengal, and not in any of the countries which were flooded/' " But in what direction was he going ? Could not any of your messengers overtake him ? " tf No ; for as yet he is ahead of my men, who are only following in his trail ; and the tortuous line he is tracking makes it impossible at times to keep up the pursuit." A thick, impenetrable cloud was forming in the western sky, and the Zemindar's mother looked intently at it, as INUNDATION, FAMINE, ETC. 137 if her eyes would pierce through its inky veil to seek for her truant son. " 0, Monohur ! even in the land beyond yon cloud will nay spirit seek for and find thee. Nilkant, I am dying/'' " Dying ! " exclaimed the Surburakar, as he hastened to take hold of her cold hands to feel for her pulse. " Ah, poor lady ! she is gone already killed by her son ! " The lady was dead indeed ; but she had not taken off her eyes from the western cloud. Her soul had leaped out in that direction, and the eyes were gazing fixedly as before. 138 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR, CHAPTER XX. THE ZOHUR STONE. THE station of Suadi is situated on the plateau formed by the sand-hills of Gangpore, and is full of caves and natural excavations, which were largely used as hiding places by the local chiefs and their families during the height of the Mahratta inroads. The retreats are very secure, the paths leading to them winding through tangled grass-plains and round large boulders, and not being easily threaded ; and one of the caves namely, that which is the largest has the reputation of having been occupied by Rama and Sita during their residence in the forest, whence the latter was carried off by Havana. The general belief on the spot speaks also of the excava- tions as extending subterraneously so far as Talchera, on the banks of the Brahmini river ; and it is pretended that, even to this day, the underground zigzag is passable from one end of it to the other, and is actually traversed by those who are not afraid of its loneliness and gloom. The population throughout the tract consists almost entirely of mountaineers and woodmen, nominally divided into septs, but not materially differing from each other either in race or character. They have, in fact, a legend amongst them that they are all descended from a common progenitor, the father of seven brothers who came to this part of India from the mountains of the North, and THE ZOHUR STONE. 139 became divided by a trifling accident. They were all hunters when they came ; but the head-dress of two of them having got entangled in the jungles they were passing through, these were sundered from the rest, and, while the latter followed the chase, the former, vexed at the obstacle that had hindered them, took out their knives to cut down the thickets, and became wood-cutters from that day. The place is wild and unfrequented, and not without a spice of romance about it, and the people in it are wilder still, though perfectly unsophisticated and exceedingly warm-hearted. Every stranger is an uninvited guest with them, and, once a guest, they cannot harm him ever after on any account. It is said that a murderer having at one time found a refuge here with the parents of the man he had murdered, had all his wants supplied by them, though the father of the murdered man had recog- nised the slayer of his son. They shared their simple meal with him, and gave him a bed to sleep upon, and it was not till he had started on his journey the next morning, and was at a fair distance from their habitation, that his host ventured to stop him. " There is a blood-feud between us/' said he, " and I cannot allow the murderer of my son to pass further without settling the account between us. I could not, of course, accost him to this end while he was my guest." " Can you do so now, old man ? Have I not eaten of your rice and salt ? " The would-be avenger of blood hung down his head, and was obliged to admit the claim ; and the murderer passed on without being further interfered with. Such was the retreat and such the men amc^fr whom 1 40 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. Monohur and Bissonath had taken refuge after their escape from Kharsawan. They inhabited one of the caverns to which we have referred, and, being equally well liked by the woodmen and the mountaineers, had all their wants fully and freely supplied. The character and appearance of the Sunyasi commanded the respect both of the young and the old, while the youth and manliness of Monohur made him perhaps a yet greater favourite with all of them. What the Sunyasi was especially esteemed for was his knowledge of charms and medicines, which induced even the patriarchs of the septs, who yet retained the pride of their traditional high birth fully, to regard him as a superior being, and to salute him with becoming deference. " Our place of refuge is singularly lone and unpic- turesque, Babajee," exclaimed Monohur, "but I never- theless feel very pleasant and comfortable in it, and am loath to believe that we could have done better anywhere else under our present difficulties." " You are right, my son, for our retreat is a very secure one ; but still must we depart from it as soon as we may, that is, as soon as the hue and cry after us has subsided." ' ' Why, wherefore should we leave it in such haste ? Are you getting tired of our cave of freedom already ?" " Yes, indeed I am ; for I want more freedom than a nook like this can ever give us. Our sphere of action is far beyond these brown thickets and bare rocks, and we put up with them so long only as we must." They were both seated near the opening of their cave, with their backs against the stone, and were busily engaged in pruning a climbing clematis that threatened to monopolise the whole place. At this moment a re- THE ZOHUR STONE. 141 spectable woodman approached them in a hurry, and it was apparent from his short and quick breathing that he had run over a great distance to come to them. " What brings you here in such haste, friend ? Have you any tidings for us ? " asked the Sunyasi, somewhat in alarm. i{ Xo, sir; but my wife has been bitten by a serpent, and I have come to you for help." " She is not dead yet ? " "No, not quite dead, but very nearly so. The last sparks of life are yet lingering." " Where did the serpent come from ? Do you know where it burrows ? " " 0, sir, she was bit in the woods, and we cannot say where the serpent came from, or where it is now to be found." " Well, that is unfortunate, for the best cure for a serpent-bite is to compel the reptile to suck out its own poison from the wound." " Can that be done, Babajee ? " asked Monohur, wonderingly. " Yes, to be sure ; that is, if the charm for forcing the reptile be known not otherwise. The next best course is to find a substitute for the serpent ; and I will let you have one." He drew out a bag from his side, and, after fumbling in it for a time, picked out a blue stone very like a small knotted serpent in shape, and having a rough mouth. " Just give a little milk to this serpent of mine. Put it in a can of milk, and it will drink eagerly for itself. When it ceases to do so take it out of the can and apply its rough mouth to the wound. Don't get alarmed if it sticks there. If the poison be strong it may adhere for M2 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. half-an-hour or so ; but when it has sucked it up fully it will let go its hold of itself. Dip it then again in a fresh can of milk, and you will see the poison exuded into the can." The man took the stone home, though with a despair- ing heart. " There is little chance," said he to himself, " for a little plaything like this to bring back the life that must be nearly out by this time; but I shall do with it as the wise man has told me, if only out of respect for him." And he did as he was told before a large circle of sympa- thising friends. They gave the stone milk to drink, and it sucked it up with a fizzing sound, which surprised the simple spec- tators greatly. " Don't you be very uneasy yet, brother," said a relative of the despairing husband, encouragingly. " It is not a mere inert stone that we have here after all. It has drunk for itself, and, having got filled, has ceased to drink. Let us put it to the wound and see how it acts." It was put to the wound accordingly, and stuck to it with a most stubborn bite. " Will this cure her ? " asked the husband, still par- tially in doubt, but now hoping more than ever. " What makes you think otherwise ? " remarked a third man. " The Sunyasi has never deceived us, and if ever there was a wise man in the world it is he." " Hush ! see she is moving," pointed out a fourth bystander ; and then the mystic stone came off as if its work were done. It was dipped into a fresh can of milk now, and began to exude a thin, slightly-greenish oil, which was well understood by all to be the poison it had sucked out ; and THE ZOHUR STONE. 143 within a short time after the woman who was bitten, and who had hitherto been insensible, sat up. " This is a greater marvel than was ever seen or heard of in these tracts before," was the remark of the oldest of the foresters ; and so in sooth it was, for the wild resi- dents of the plateau had never heard of the Zohur stone. They came to return the stone to the Sunyasi, but not on that errand only ; they also came to worship him. " Why, what does this mean, friends ? What is this you are doing to me with offerings of flowers and liba- tions ? " " Mahadeva drank poison in the days of old, on its being churned out of the sea, and his throat is therefore stained blue. You are surely an incarnation of the deity ? " " I I, an old sinful man, stooping with age and in- firmities, is it me that you are come to worship as an in- carnation of God ? No, no ; give praise only to Him to whom it is due. He has not left us unprotected against the evils of life. Every earthly malady has its cure, every poison its antidote ; though all the cures and antidotes be not yet generally known to us. This stone, that has worked such a marvel before your eyes, is to be found in abundance at the foot of the Himalaya Mountains, which abound with 'serpents. Your progenitors came from those regions, but the virtues of the stone were not known to them. They have been since discovered, and no re- cluse comes back from his Tirtha now without bringing handfuls of these bits with him. As I have some more of them with me I shall make a present of this one to you, that you may remember me when I am gone. It will always effect the cure you have seen, whether I remain with you or not." 1 44 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. They liked both their stranger friends, and were really sorry when they saw them making preparations to depart. " Don't you like to stay with us ? " " 0, friends, we have work elsewhere to do. Our home is different from yours we are sojourners here only ; and our stay with you must terminate." Very sincere was their grief in parting with them. The fact is, the Sunyasi had made himself very useful to his simple-hearted entertainers. He had regulated their households, adjusted their differences, and become a referee with them on all subjects of importance ; and, having got used to his assistance, they could ill do with- out it. " Charming people these," said Monohur. " They are easily satisfied, and seldom unhappy." " Yes, indeed ; but what bounds their aspirations would not bound ours ; neither you nor I could be happy after their fashion ; and, as the pursuit after us has sufficiently slackened in force now, our departure hence is well timed." " But whither do we go then, Babajee ? If there be no more danger to fear, can we not take any course we choose now?" " Let us get out from this mess of hills and forests first. We should strike out for the high-road to Pooree, I should say, to begin with, and, that attained, we shall know how to shape our course afterwards, according to circum- stances." " A very good idea ! " exclaimed Monohur. " Let us strike out for Pooree by all means. There must be a great deal to see there to be sure." THE EMISSARY AGAIN, ETC. 145 CHAPTER XXI. THE EMISSARY AGAIN, AND A STEP-MOTHER'S STOEY. WE are not in a position to say how Monohur and the Sunyasi departed from Suadi that is, whether by the subterranean passage to which we have referred, or by the common road. It is only known that within a short time after they were seen at Dhenkenel, which stands at a distance of about fifteen miles from the Pooree road, and that they were then walking rather leisurely, and the Sunyasi somewhat silently, notwithstanding that his companion was prating much about the beauty of the landscape around them. Their path lay through ex- tensive meadows and woods, without ever crossing a bar- ren or deserted spot ; and there was a fragrance in the air liberated from the thousand nameless shrubs which covered the ground as they trampled over them. Mono- hur's rapture was unbounded, and he gave emphatic ex- pression to it ; but there was no corresponding response from the Sunyasi, who had already fallen into a reverie. " How can you be so absorbed in your thoughts in such a delightful place as this, Babajee ? Don't you observe the remarkable contrast it presents to the rocky wilder- ness which we have so recently left behind us ? " " I do, my son, I do. I can no more help admiring the scenery than you yourself. But the old have many things to brood over, and many entanglements to unravel L 146 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. with which the young are not usually troubled, and you must not be surprised therefore to find me either absent- minded or inattentive occasionally." " I did not mean to complain of your inattention, Babajee, in the least. I was only anxious that you should relax your mind a little to enjoy the soft beauty of this spot before we had passed out of it altogether. If our affairs are getting involved, should I not know how they actually stand?" "O, it was not exactly our affairs that I was thinking of, Monohur, but of matters with which we have no concern at present, though we may possibly become con- nected with them by-and-by. If we do get mixed up with them at all you shall, of course, know everything about them in -time. " The steps of the speakers were now suddenly arrested by a voice that seemed to issue from the ground. It called on the Sunyasi to stop, and he did so uncon- sciously, drawing Monohur closer to him. They were fleeing from danger and death, and their fear was natural ; but it was only a single man that had accosted them, and he was easily recognised. "You here again?" exclaimed the Sunyasi, in surprise, on seeing the Ghattal Baboo standing before them. " Yes, I have been sent to ask if you have made up your minds yet to come over to us." ( ' Sent from Banpore do you mean ? " " Yes, from Banpore." " Are you going back thither ? " " I am ; and I have been told to take you with me if you would come." " We can't accompany you immediately for many THE EMISSAR Y A GAIN, ETC. 147 reasons, of which one only need be named. Being here we must proceed to Purushuttom first." " What answer shall I make then to those who have sent me ? " " Say that they may expect us at the eleventh hour, when the mine is ready for explosion, but not till then." The man disappeared from the road-side as suddenly as he had sprung up, and was lost among the surrounding thickets and brambles. Monohur had seen him distinctly, but was so taken aback by his abrupt appearance that he had not been able to speak to him. He now asked the Sunyasi to explain to him the mystery of his appear- ance there, and understood, of course, that it was inti- mately connected with the matters his companion had been so intently brooding over. " Ah, yes, it is now time to disclose everything to you, my son ;" and the account he did give was extremely satisfactory. " The Ghattal Baboo is not worth following indeed," said Monohur, when the explanation was ended, " but should we not hasten to the trysting-place now, since our appearance there is so anxiously waited for ? " " No, my son, not immediately. It was this eagerness of yours that 1 was afraid of, and that made me move in the matter so cautiously. We will not disappoint those who expect us. But I would give them time to bring their disaffection to an issue before we have anything to do with them." " I agree with you in the abstract, Babajee ; but it does appear to me to be more creditable to be among the first on the spot to ripen a good project, than among the latest, to share in what others will have ripened for us." L 2 i 4 8 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. " 0, my son, this business is theirs far more than ours, and there is no reason for our risking the dangers of an immature scheme* should they be unable to ripen it." " Are you in doubts about the enterprise at all then ? " " No, not at present ; but, seeing how we have fared in our previous undertakings, we cannot, I think, be too careful in catching the bait a third time, though I do not dissuade you from doing so cautiously/' Mocohur did not quite relish the over-care and delay which the Sunyasi's suggestions involved ; but he could not, of course, think of pulling different-wise from him ; and they went down the path in silence, slackening their steps somewhat, as if to enjoy more fully the invigorating tranquillity of the place. "The sun is fast going down, Babajee, and we have not secured a safe place yet for the night," observed Monohur, breaking the muteness after a time. " That was just what I was thinking of/' replied the Sunyasi. " We should not be longer on the road now, and are besides tired enough to need rest. But I am afraid we must proceed a little further before we can find suitable quarters for us." " I have no objection to go as far further as you wish, Babajee ; but there are high words going on in that hut over the hedge somebody is threatening there that he would beat some woman or child to death. Had we not better look in to see what the difference is about ? " " Wherefore ? What have we to do with the quarrels of other people, my son ? But perhaps you are right, Monohur. We may possibly be able to prevent mischief if it be threatened, and at the same time probably secure the shelter we seek." The hut they approached belonged to a family of THE EMISSARY AGAIN, ETC. 149 Goars, or Goalahs, a common class in Orissa. The quarrellers were man and wife. The husband was a middle-aged man, named Dabra, and the woman, his second wife, was called Bhago. Though Dabra had re- married after the death of his first wife, he loved his son by the latter a boy of twelve years far better than he loved his new wife, and this Bhago was unable to endure. Father and son had just returned from ploughing, and the boy being hungry had asked for food. His step- mother had thereupon given him a dish of Khichrec or Chow-Dallia, as they call it, and had directed him to eat it in the kitchen. " How can I eat it in the dark ? " said the boy ; and, unmindful of her order, he had taken oufc the dish into the compound where there was light yet to see. " There is something yellow in the middle of the dish/' observed the boy, looking at the platter intently ; and, having taken a mouthful of the Khichree, he added that it was bitter, and spat it out. His father coming up gave the remainder of the dinner to a dog that was near, and the animal had no sooner eaten of it than it was seized with convulsions and began to roll upon the ground. " How, bitch ? "What did you dare to give my son to eat ? Shall I not thrash your life out of you for attempt- ing to poison him ? " The woman protested at first that she had given nothing harmful to the boy ; but, finding that she was not believed, she became as clamorous as her husband, who at last brought out a thick cane to thrash her with. It was at this juncture that Monohur and the Sunyasi entered their hut, which the absorbing nature of their altercation had rendered them incapable to observe. " I will kill thee, bitch, with this stick," exclaimed 1 5 o THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. the infuriated husband ; but Monohur caught hold of the cane before it could descend, while Bissonath, availing himself of his sacred character, came forward with a benediction on the house in regular Sunyasi fashion, and deprecated the anger and violence of its owner in the mildest terms. " Hear me out first, Thakoorjee ! " said Dabra, " and you will be aghast at the crime which the woman had attempted/' But the woman denied the charge that was brought against her, when, to her confusion and the triumph of her accuser, the proof of it was made manifest by the death of the dog. " Don't try to deny your guilt, woman," said the Sunyasi, " but rather be thankful to Heaven that your attempt has not succeeded. And you, friend," added he, turning to her husband, "must not retaliate, for your wife seems now to be with child. Listen to a story which I will tell you, which almost sets forth your own case in different words, and it may be that you shall be able to shape your course aright after you have heard it. " A man married a second time after the death of his first wife, as you have done ; he loved his second wife, bat his son by his first wife was not less dear to him. In time the second wife gave birth to a son, just as yours will within four or five months ; but the husband loved his first son best of all. " ' This must not be, J said the wife to herself. * There is a Rakshasi in the forest who is related to me. I shall send my step-son to her, and she will eat him up/ " She called the boy to her, and told him to go to her aunt in the forest. ' Carry this basket of sweetmeats to her and remind her of me, and bring me word how she is.' THE EMISSAR Y A GAIN, ETC. 151 " The boy was pleased with the mission intrusted to him, being anxious to secure the good graces of his step- mother, and went off as directed with speed. " ' Are you my step-mother's aunt ? ' asked he of the R'akskasi, on arriving at her place. " ' Yes, that am I. What have you got for me ? ' " ' 0, all these presents here, and she wants to be re- membered with love. Now say what I am to tell her from you, for I must go back quickly against my father's return.' " ' Not quickly, my child ; you must first eat and drink here. Sit down for a while and amuse yourself, while I get things ready for you/ " The boy pressed hard to go, but found that he was detained and fell crying. The Rakshasi had feasted that day already, and had reserved him for her next meal. " ' What are you crying for, boy ? ' asked a little ringdove that was perched on the nearest tree. " ' I can't go home; I am detained/ ' ' ' Knowest thou what for ? Thy step-mother's aunt is a Rakshasi, and you were sent here that she might eat you up/ " ( How shall I escape then ? ' " ' Take this twig, this leaf, and this wisp of straw that I have brought for you. The doors will open when you touch them with the twig, after which you are to run for your life. If the Rakshasi discovers your escape, and pursues you, throw this leaf before her and a river will intervene. If she crosses the river and threatens to overtake you, throw the wisp of straw at her and it will become a dense forest which will effectually cover your flight/ " The boy took the gifts the ringdove gave him, and 152 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. while the Rakshasi was asleep he touched the doors with the twig and they flew ajar. He ran out as he had never run in play, and had already cleared half the distance home when he saw that the Rakshasi had awoke and was coming after him. He was much agitated and frightened, but remembered to throw the leaf at her, and it became a wide river. The Rakshasi thereupon flung herself into the stream, and began to swim over with the celerity of an otter. The boy had run fast in the meantime, and was very near home ; but the Rakshasi had already crossed over, and was bounding recklessly after him. He now threw the wisp of straw at her, and, while she vainly attempted to penetrate the forest that arose between them, the boy reached home. " ' Whence, boy ? ' asked his father of him angrily, for he had been awaiting his return with impatience. "The boy related the story of his adventures faith- fully, upon which the father got so angry with his wife that he took up his hatchet to kill her. But the dove that had helped the boy out of his danger was now sitting on the thatch of their hut, and came forward as peace- maker between man and wife. " ' Your wife has borne you a second son, and you must not kill her. Make her a necklace of betel-nuts, and she will live in the house as a cat ;' and the second wife, converted into a cat, lived purring and snarling all the rest of her life, without being able to do any further harm to her step-sou." " How am I to dispose of my wife then to make her as harmless for the future ? " asked Dabra of the Sunyasi. " Excuse her the offence she has committed, and she will remain bound to you for ever; and you, woman, THE EMISSARY AGAIN, ETC. 153 if you try to harm your step-son again I shall have your body, and the body of the child in your womb, covered with leprosy by my imprecations/ 5 " O, father, I shall never think of injuring my step-son any further, since you have saved me. Don't, for heaven's sake, curse the child in my womb." i 5 4 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. CHAPTER XXII. JAGGANATH KE JAI ! HAVING patched up a truce between husband and wife, the travellers had little difficulty in making good their quarters with them for the night ; and, in fact, the pro- posal that they should do so came from Dabra himself, though in a rather ungracious way. " It is not the custom with us/ ; said he, " to receive guests at this late hour. But we have given you so much trouble with our affairs, and you have been so long delayed thereby, that it would scarcely be kind now to send you away; so you may as well put down your wallets where you are, and rest here for the night." " So be it," answered the Sunyasi, stopping the reply of Monohur, who was about to refuse an asylum so un- generously offered. " We are pilgrims only, and will not require much attention from you or your family ; and we go out very early to-morrow, as time is of much value to us." But Dabra, though rough in manners, was not naturally an inhospitable man. He had a young wife at home, and did not care therefore to receive strangers indis- criminately at night; but, having allowed the pilgrims to stay, he attended to all their wants cheerfully, while Bhago, grateful for the service they had rendered to her, was particularly assiduous in performing those functions which women are always best able to discharge. JAGGANATH KE JAI ! 155 fc After all, Babajee/' said Monohur, " these people are not really so churlish as they appeared to me at first, and we would have acted foolishly indeed had we refused the shelter they have given us only for the words in which the offer was made/'' " Just so, my son. Wayfarers, like ourselves, should never quarrel with mere words. If we had refused their offer we might have been faring worse elsewhere at this moment, or perhaps not have found any shelter anywhere at all." They ate and slept well there in the night, and were up very early next morning, ready to depart. " I pronounced a blessing on the house when I entered it," said the Sunyasi, addressing Dabra and his wife, " and will bless it again in departing from it. Do you live in concord and peace evermore, my friends, putting up with each other's infirmities, and frequently forgiving each other, which is, I assure you, the only way of living happily on the earth.'" They were out of the house the next moment, and, directing their steps towards the main road to Pooree, came up to it at about a mile beyond the town of Cuttack. There are passengers on this road day and night through- out every month of the year, though more so during the festival seasons than at other times ; and every village on the road-side has its pilgrim encampments. The parties vary in number from thirty to three hundred men, and neai-ly ninety per cent, of the pilgrims are females. They are collected by Pandas, or touters, who visit every part of India to bring them together. These allurers do not go about preaching like Peter the Hermit, but simply seek the women in their retirement when their husbands are away from home, and there work both on their 156 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. fears and hopes fears as regards their future salvation, hopes connected with their worldly happiness and exal- tation. The bait thus held out is irresistible. Young women are easily induced by the very novelty of the journey to undertake it; widows snap at the idea of looking about them in the world with avidity ; while barren wives, unfortunate mothers, and all in distress of mind are easily persuaded to proceed in person to the " Lord of the Universe," 1 and pour forth all their sorrows before Him. The women hooked, the men follow like so many sheep ; and at the time of the great festivals the stream of pilgrims is literally continuous. Monohur was astonished at the number of men he saw on the road, and the variety they represented. " 0, Babajee ! where do so many people come from ? Is all India on the move at this season of the year ? " " Yes, my son, almost all who can afford to do so, and many even of those who cannot afford the expenditure take advantage of the festivals to run over to Pooree ; and by far the greater portion of them come from our own province of Bengal, and, next to it, from the North- West. The number is so considerable, in fact, that it frequently causes an artificial famine where the pilgrims halt ; and you will find high prices the rule throughout their line of march." Monohur gazed on the crowd with extreme surprise, for he had never in his life seen such numbers on the move before. " Jagganath ke jai ! " "Purushuttom Swami Ice jail" were the only cries bawled out by the passengers as they trudged along, each party distinguished from the rest by some striking peculiarity of its own. The white-dressed 1 Jaggat-Ndth, or Jaggandih. JAGGANATH KE JAI ! 157 and diminutive females from Bengal moved with slow and languid steps, but yielded not to any in the fervour of their faith ; more bravely jogged on the females of Upper India, dressed in all the colours of the rainbow, though their rags were coarse, dirty, a ad full of vermin ; while mixed with both were to be seen bands of Sunyasis covered with ashes, and some of them completely naked, all armed with stout staffs for extorting that charity which might otherwise have been refused to them. Generally, all the passengers were on foot, but, occasionally, covered waggons were seen carrying the women of the higher classes, whose smiling faces were ever and anon visible through the canvas parted by curious hands. At greater intervals came down trains of pi'dlds carrying over the rich ladies of Calcutta and its immediate neighbourhood, the good-natured inmates always keeping the sliding doors of their prison-house partially open, that they might see and be seen by the other travellers on the road. More rarely still passed caravans of elephants, camels, and led horses taking down north-country Rajahs and their seraglio, the latter carrv- ing on their flirtations under the very nose of the chu- prassis set over them. " I thought that the journey would be fatiguing, Babajee, but find it on the contrary to be exceedingly pleasing." " Of course you do, for you have no knowledge of its disagreeable side yet. There are many disadvantages connected with it which, I hope, it will not fall to our lot to encounter." " Disadvantages ? I can scarcely conceive what they can be." " Want of food, want of water, mortality ; all these are 158 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. felt by those who have to make a continuous journey for months almost for the first time in their lives, and are not accustomed to privations as we have become. In their onward journey they have funds with them, and perhaps do not suffer very much, except in the purse ; but on the return journey, when their purses have got lightened, they suffer so much as to die off by thousands every week." " Why, that is horrible to think of," exclaimed Monohur, as the brightness of the picture he was painting got clouded. " How many come to Pooree then annually, aud how many out of them die on the road ? " " I really don't know. I doubt if there be any data anywhere to show that. But it is said that at this Car festival, that we are proceeding to witness, somewhere near a hundred and fifty thousand men will be con- gregated, of whom not more than three-fourths will ever get back to their homes." Monohur was almost terrified into silence, and avoided further conversation until late in the evening, when he heard some pilgrims complaining of an extortionate ferryman who had fleeced them. " How is that, Babajee ? Are not the ferry rates fixed ? I have often seen you to part with ferrymen on the best terms, without complaining that you were cheated." " O, my son, I am a man of the world as well as a Sunyasi, and put up cheerfully with impositions which it is not in my power to prevent. The rates, as you say, are fixed, and, what is more, they are always posted up at a prominent place near every ferry. But look at the bulk of pilgrims before you, and say how many of them you think can read and write. How, then, are they to dispute the demands made of them ? " JA GGANATH KE JAI ! 159 " But you can read and write, Babajee ; why have you never complained of the imposition which, you say, it was not in your power to prevent ? }> " Have we not always been fleeing for our lives ? Even if it were otherwise, who would wish to leave his occupation or business, or to postpone his journey, to prosecute an extortionate farmer ? " " And this, of course, emboldens the fellows to wrench out whatever rates they choose ? " " It does ; and they vary their demands only according to the head-force of the men they have to deal with, of which they are excellent judges." Monohur felt that his bright picture was, one after another, losing all its roseate hues. The downright realities before him, deprived of the unreal lights in which he had hitherto viewed them, now looked as ugly and frightful daubs ; and his uneasiness was yet further augmented when he heard a short while after that, on the previous day, there had been a case of poisoning on the road . " This is what I could never have dreamt of," exclaimed he. " How in such a frequented road can any attempt to poison be made ? " " 0, nothing is easier," answered the Sunyasi. " When people who don't know one another, have to eat and sleep almost side by side at so many places, what so easy for the poisoner than, under the veil of fellowship, to mix dhatoord, arsenic, or aconite with the food of his fellow- travellers ? " " But, surely, the chances of escape, after commission of the crime, are less in a crowded road than elsewhere ?" " They ought to be ; but as the effect of dhatoord is only giddiness or partial stupefaction to begin with, that is often attributed to mere weariness, and passes un- 160 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. noticed till the poisoners have had time to place a con- siderable distance between themselves and their victims." " Ah ! your pilgrimages, then, are productive of fright- ful atrocities and crimes, Babajee. The gain per contra must be great indeed to tempt so many to prosecute them under such risks with so much enthusiasm." "The gain? Of course the gain is great, my son. Don't you know what it is ? ' Rathay Bahmana dristay poonarjanma nabidatay ! ' e He that has seen the Dwarf* face to face at the time of the Car festival has no further births to pass through ! ' A brisk walk brought our travellers to the city of Pooree, where, lost in the great wave of pilgrims, they put up for the night openly with others, without any fears or misgivings. " You may rest here in peace with us/' said the Panda who found accommodation for them, " musing on the Great Creator whom you shall see in the flesh to-morrow ; and, if you are not niggardly in your charities, nor in your offerings to the Deity, there is no reason why you should not secure a straight and easy path to heaven." " O, priest," said the Sunyasi, " I am but half a beggar by trade, and possess little indeed, of the treasures of the world, and this youth is my chelah, or disciple, having, at present at least, no other person to befriend him. But what little we have with us we shall certainly pour out freely to secure our salvation ; and we shall do it in such manner as you yourself may direct." The Panda was fully gratified, and left them with a smiling face, to speak in the same sense to the many other pilgrims he had brought together on the same errand, and to the same spot. 2 An Avatar of Vishnu. THE MINE READY ONCE MORE. 161 CHAPTER XXIII. THE MINE READY ONCE MORE. THE night was passed pleasantly, the pilgrims sitting up to a late hour to listen to the story of Jagganath, which was narrated by the Panda for their edification. " In the golden age the Lord of the Universe was worshipped in Orissa by the name of Nilmadhava, or the Blue God, and dwelt in a large forest near to the sea- shore. His reputation was so great that a puissant Rajah of Oujein, named Indradyamna, came with a large follow- ing to see him. But the god was wroth at his ostenta- tion and pride, and said ' Thou surely shalt not see me till I have cured thee of thy self-esteem ;' and the blue stone vanished from the forest it had inhabited, and was nowhere to be found. "'Gone!' exclaimed the Rajah, in blank dismay. ' Evanished, just when, after years of anxious thought, I had come out hither to see him ! 0, merciful Heaven ! why was such grievous disappointment reserved for me ? ' " Sore, sore grieved the Rajah, that his heart's wish could not be gratified. Hot tears ran thick and fast from his eyes, and he sobbed almost like a child. For years and years he had thought of nothing but how he should approach the deity, and this, the sole wish of his heart, was now hopelessly frustrated. " ' Build him a temple/ said the priest of Nilmadhava, M 162 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. ' and the god will surely come to inhabit it. You have wealth, position, and honour; how can he meet such a man in the forest, under the hedges, where men in rags and tatters only come to seek for him ? ' " The king snatched up the idea with great eagerness, and a grand temple was built on the sea-shore within the shortest time. But still the god came not, and the Rajah clasped his hands vainly in despair. " ' O, king ! ' said the priest to him once more, ' if your faith and love be really so great, and worthy of the deity you seek, build him a city round the temple. How can he inhabit a temple built on a waste ? ' "'I shall certainly do so/ said the king; and they had not to wait long before a large city arose around the wild spot where the temple had been raised, and a large and glorious city it was, even this city of Pooree. " But the god was still as obdurate as ever, and even his priest knew not what further suggestions to offer. " ' Must we go back, then, without seeing him ? ' asked the Rajah's wife, in a plaintive voice of complaint. " ' Not so, my beloved ! ' said the king decisively. ' I have read the Veds and the Purans, and know how to perform those austerities which it is not given even unto the gods to disregard or repel / and he sat down to per- form Jloms and Jagyas which shook the deep foundations of heaven. " ' This man will surely force me to reveal myself to him/ observed Nilmadhava, in a cogitative mood. ' He has thought for nothing else in his heart but me. How is such a devotee to be gainsaid ? ' " Thus compelled to appear the god made himself visible to the king in a dream, in the form of a Neem- wood log, which was decked with all the insignia of THE MINE READY ONCE MORE, 163 Vishnu. The Rajah awoke with irrepressible feelings; and the block of wood seemed as if it were vanishing before his eyes, and lo, it was gone ! " Sore, sore grieved was the Rajah again that it was only a dream; but when he spoke of the vision to his courtiers and servants, and when the news of it was car- ried far and wide, the response came quickly that just such a block of wood as that described by the king had made its appearance on the sea-shore, having been thrown up by the tide. The Rajah now cried out in an agony of joy ' 0, my heart's wish ! 0, Saviour of my race ! hast thou descended to me at last ? ' and all his retinue were set to draw up the wood from the beach, and were helped by the labouring population of the place with great enthusiasm. " ' There it is up at last ! ' exclaimed the king with ecstasy, 'the emblem of the deity that has been sent down to us from heaven ! ' and his wife and relatives joined him with eager voices to raise the song of exultation and love. " ' 0, king ! ' said the priest of Nilmadhava, ' it be- hoves you now to give this shapeless wood a form. You have built a temple for the deity. Will you set up this log in it as it lies ? ' " The mandate of the king went forth thereupon to collect carpenters, and a large number of them were brought together to work out the wood. But they could make nothing of it, for their instruments broke, and made no impression on the wood. " ' It is surely the obstinacy of the god again/ said the Rajah's wife, ' that is still endeavouring to disappoint us. 0, king, you must resume your austerities, for we cannot leave our work half done/ ai 2 1 64 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. " The king accepted the well-judged advice with alacrity, and his Horns and Jagyas were resumed, which forced Vishnu to come down personally in the form of an old carpenter to accomplish what was wanted. " ' Wilt thou work out the wood, sayest thou ? ' " ( Yes, king, if you will allow me.' " ' But you are too old. Younger men have tried their strength on the block in vain.' " ' I was sent for, and have come, and surely I shall be able to do what I have come for. Know you not, O, king, that Providence works impossibilities by the weakest hands ? ' " ' You have pronounced a wholesome truth, old man, and for that saying's sake I shall intrust the work to you, and if you can shape the wood tastefully I shall reward you even beyond your highest expectations.' " The old man worked with a willing hand, and the three beautiful figures of Jagganath, Balaram, and Subadhra were quickly made, and great was the pleasure of the king when he heard of the carpenter's success. " ' Fetch me the artist now,' said he, ( and I will clothe him in purple and gold, and he shall have a seat on my right hand, for he has satisfied the dearest wishes of my heart/ " But the carpenter was no longer to be found ; he had vanished the moment his work was completed, vanished together with his implements. " There was surprise on every face now, and most of all on that of the king, when, lo ! a voice was heard to speak out to him from heaven. " ' 0, blessed king ! thou hast opened the gate of sal- vation to all mankind. Ask what boon you want, and it will be granted to thee.' THE MINE READY ONCE MORE. 165 " f Be it this then/ said the devout worshipper, * that there be no second birth for me ! Let Thy servant escape the vicissitudes of transmigration for ever, since he has seen Thy salvation ! ' " ' The boon asked for is granted/ answered the same voice from heaven, ' not only to thee, but to all who shall come to the same spot, to worship the same three deities, with the same singleness of heart that you have shown / and for more than thirty thousand years have people from all parts of the world poured to this place to secure the promised immunity." The story was very interesting and instructive, and prepared its hearers fully for the devotion they had come so far to render. The next day was the day of the Car festival, and Monohur and the Sunyasi got up very early therefore to visit the temple, to worship the symbols of their salva- tion before they were removed for being placed in their cars. The worshippers were both of them devout Hindus, albeit, one of them had passed at one time for a Maho- medan and a Ferazee, and they approached the idols with the greatest enthusiasm and joy ; and all the rites en- joined by the Shastras, which were indicated to them by the Panda, were gone through with reverential precision. "Now is the last and crowning desire of my heart fulfilled, and my errand in this world accomplished ! " exclaimed the Sunyasi, in the fulness of his heart ; " I am quite ready to lay down my life now, for my work is ended ! " " This is heaven surely, to see God face to face, as we see Him before us ! " responded Monohur, with equal fervour and devotion. At this moment a band of Pandas rushed suddenly 1 66 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR towards the idols to carry them off to the cars, and the shouts of " Jai Jagganath ! " " Jagganath ~ke jai ! " were reiterated and prolonged with such deafening roar both from within the temple and from the outside of it that they could be heard from a great distance even from a distance of three or four miles. The scene now was in- tensely exciting, though all that was clearly visible, even to the foremost beholders, consisted only of the over- whelming offerings of flowers to the idols on their being seated' on their cars, and the by no means inconsiderable offerings of coins to the priests who stood in charge of them. The crowd was immense, and began to increase more and more every moment ; but there was never an unkind word or angry look exchanged between the myriads who composed it, though they trod on each other's toes so frequently and mercilessly. Everyone tried his best to have a pull at the cords by which the cars were to be drawn, but it was a great misfortune to many that the tackles were too far away from them to get at. It was scarcely understood generally, except by hearsay, whether the cars were drawn at all or not. "Did the cars move perceptibly?" asked an old woman of Monohur, who had been in the thickest of the crowd. " Yes, but a few cubits length only." " Why were they not drawn further ? " "To prevent deaths by accident, for several persons had laid themselves down purposely near to the wheels to get crushed under them/' " Ah, that must be the sweetest way to heaven ! " exclaimed the woman devoutly. " Would I could get in further to throw myself under the wheels ! " " Is such immolation pleasing to the deity, Babajee ? " THE MINE READY ONCE MORE. 167 asked Monohur, turning round to the Sunyasi with a woeful face. " I do not believe so, my son, though the Pandas maintain that it is." "Must not some further attempts be made to draw the cars again to-day, after removing the deluded devo- tees from the places where they have managed to pros- trate themselves ? " " No, not to-day, I am told. But they must be taken to tte Gandicha Mandir, before the Poonar Jdtrd, and bettsr arrangements for the forward movement will cer- tainly have to be made by to-morrow or the day after ." " 0, Babajee, should we not stay here a few days then to witness the end of the festival ? " " No, my son, we have no time for that ; nor is it at all necessary that we should so delay ourselves. We have had a full sight of f Bahmana in his car/ which is all that is required for the purposes of salvation; and have had a pull at the cords besides, which is the utmost felicity that a longer stay here could give us. There is pressing business for us elsewhere, and we must on no account lag longer at this spot if we can help it." While thus speaking to each other Monohur and the Sunyasi were both endeavouring assiduously to extricate themselves from the crowd, and eventually succeeded iv doing so after the lapse of about half-an-hour. Theij hearts were still full of the thoughts which the divine presence had called forth, and of the " peace on earth " and " good- will to all " which is the synopsis of every religion; and they were yet loath to depart from the temple-grounds, the more so that the dictum had already gone forth that that was to be their last day there. At this juncture their attention was drawn and their 1 68 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. Bteps directed towards a nook of the court which repre- sented the love-bower of Subadhra, where a number of Ooryah girls were dancing, and singing the love-songs of the gods to the sound of a lute which was being p laved upon by one of themselves. They were only children of ten and eleven years, who, too young to get into the crowd, were thus enjoying themselves apart from all others ; and, being all of them more or less lovely, they aptly represented the fairies of the grove. Their naked arms and feet glittered with ornaments of silver and gold, which made a tinkling sound as they danced that blended charmingly with the music of the lute. Monohur gazed intently at them, and heaved a deep sigh as the fay of Narkelberiah came back to his mind. But the thought was dispelled as quickly as it came. There was a third man dodging the footsteps of the pilgrims as their very shadow, and Monohur almost started back on seeing him. This made the Sunyasi also turn round to him, and, finding that it was the Ghattal Baboo again, he addressed him almost in an angry tone. " What is it that you still want with us ? Have I not given you our answer already ? " "The answer was delivered to those who sent me, and I am bid to tell you again that you are urgently waited for/' " How could you have gone to Banpore and returned thence in so short a time, friend ? " " 0, the means were given to me, and are at your disposal at this moment, if you will avail of them, for life and death are in our speed." <( Then speed back to your employers yourself, and say that we come. But it will not suit us to go with you." THE MINE READY ONCE MORE. 169 The man said nothing in reply, and when the Sunyasi raised his eyes again towards him he was gone ! " Need I ask what this means, Babajee ? " exclaimed Monohur, Ms heart beating rapidly, and fully anticipating his companion's reply. " It means that the mine is ready, my son, and that we must hasten to set fire to it." ijo THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. CHAPTER XXIV. THE CHILKA LAKE, AND THE STORY OF THE SERPENTS ROCK. " WHAT is that billet there, Babajee, that you are reading so intently ? " " A missive from the camp, my son. We are asked to report ourselves at Burkowl, which stands on the western bank of the Chilka Lake, which you have often so eagerly wished to visit." " O, how glad I shall be surely ! And you will take me to all the little rock-islands on the lake that I have heard you speak of?" " I don't know whether we shall have time to visit all of them ; perhaps not. But we shall certainly see a good many of them, and there are shrines on some at which I am anxious to perform my devotions." " Agreed ! " said Monohur. " Let us hasten then to- wards the trysting-place ;" and his heart became as glad as that of a butterfly at the prospect he was permitted to muse upon. The journey was begun the next morning, and the country they passed through was very fair and pleasing. But the curiosity of Monohur had now been sharply ex- cited, and, though he frequently looked round on the meadows with rapture, he talked a great deal more than ever, always asking for information on all points con- nected with the lake. THE CHILKA LAKE, ETC. 171 " Do not be angry with me, Babajee, but I would fain know all about the Chilka beforehand, if you will humour me/' and the Sunyasi was obliged to communicate as much as he knew of it himself, which was not very much to be sure. " What is the distance of the lake from this place ? How long will it take us to reach it ? " " About two days at most, going by easy stages. The distance of its upper extremity from this point is not more than eight kos or so." " And then we shall be on the lake at once ? " " Right upon it, my son." We may as well describe the lake ourselves, which will materially shorten the account the Sunyasi gave of it. The Chilka is a shallow inland sea, lying some fifteen or sixteen miles to the south-west of Pooree, and is separated from the ocean by a long sandy ridge nearly two hundred yards wide. It is about forty miles in length, and has a width varying from five to twenty miles. Throughout its entire extent it is more or less shallow, the depth varying from three to six feet in low water, and from five and a half to ten feet in high water ; and it has a single narrow mouth for its outlet into the Bay of Bengal. In the hot months its supply of water is derived entirely from the Bay, and is necessarily brackish. But in the rains the rivers come pouring into the basin, and, by expelling the salt water from it, turn it into a fresh-water lake. The scenery around the lake is very varied, the north of it being a level country, and having sedgy banks, while on the west side it is walled in by lofty mountains, in some places ascending perpendicularly, and in others thrusting out gigantic arms or projections of rock into 172 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. the water. The southern boundary is made of hills, which form the natural frontier of Orissti in that direction. Where the hill-ranges abound the lake is dotted with rocky islands, on some of which the ruins of a few ancient edifices are yet to be seen. Most of these buildings were temples of Mahadeva in the past, but have for several centuries been appropriated to the worship of Jagganath, Balaram, and Subadhra. The fact is that all the temples in Orissa, erected by the princes of the Kesari Bangsa, were originally dedicated to the worship of Mahadeva, and only came afterwards to be assigned to the worship of Vishnu on the elevation of the Gunga Bangsa to the throne. The most sacred shrine on the lake, however, is one consecrated to neither Siva nor Vishnu, but to Nag Panchanan, or the Serpent Deity; and this was the place that the Sunyasi was especially anxious to visit. We shall leave it to him, therefore, to give the history of the shrine. "We have come to the Chilka at last," exclaimed Monohur, as he caught the first glimpse of it on the second day, " and there is certainly a wild kind of beauty in its loveliness, notwithstanding that it looks so stall." The lake was as smooth and level almost as a billiard- table, not the slightest ripple being seen on its surface at this time. 11 We have certainly come to it in very quiet weather," replied the Sunyasi ; " but it may not preserve this mood long, for it does not take much time here for the winds to arise and get angry." " Ah, I am sure the lake will be kind enough to remain undisturbed while we are on it, if only to oblige me," said Monohur smilingly; "and see, Babajee, there is a THE CHILKA LAKE, ETC. 173 boat coming towards us already, as if intending to take us up into it." " Your eyes are very good, indeed, Monohur. The people are all quite on the alert here I see, for there is no mistake but that the boat is meant for us." " I trust, Babajee, we proceed in ease, visiting all the islands we may pass by ? " " We shall do that certainly, nor be long delayed on that account, the islands being small bits of rock merely. But we must proceed carefully, passing by unguarded posts, and avoiding the salt-chowkeys, of which there are a good many here." They entered the boat the moment it touched the shore, and were rowed over swiftly and cautiously, the Manjee giving his orders with a calm energy that showed clearly how alive he was to the dangers of the duty he had undertaken. " Well rowed, my children ! " exclaimed the Sunyasi ; "we are speeding very swiftly in the absence of a breeze. Now take care that you do not omit to touch all the islands on which there are relics to worship;" and Monohur's wish was fully gratified, as almost all the islands they passed by were visited. "Your skill in doubling the rocks was great," observed the Sunyasi, addressing the Manjee with a satisfied air. " Do you belong to this place by birth ? " (C No, I am from Bengal, from the banks of the Megna, and have been brought hither by your own man, the Baboo from Gliattal." " Ha ! Is that it ? How then have you been able to master the currents of the lake so quickly, when, as I have been told, they cross and recross in a most hazardous 174 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. way ? You seem to be quite at home in every part of the lake." " 0, sir," answered the Manjee, " a man who has to live by his own exertions must either be at home every- where, or be nothing at all at any place." " You speak truly, my son/' said the Sunyasi, " but still is it very difficult to acquire such dexterity as you have shown when not to the manner born. Whither are we drifting now ? ' ' tf To the Serpent's Eock. Is not that the last of the islands you wished to visit ? " " It is ; and I am very thankful to you for having remembered my requests so faithfully." The boatman and the Sunyasi were well pleased with each other, and the shrine of Nag Panchanan was quickly reached. It was found to be in a very decayed condi- tion ; but Bissonath knew of its sanctity, and tarried in it longer than elsewhere over his devotions. The god worshipped was represented by a black stone serpent of enormous size ; and Monohur looked at it with unfeigned surprise. " This is the most curious representation of the Deity I have ever seen, Babajee," he exclaimed, addressing his companion the moment his devotions were over, " and you certainly must know some legend or other about it ? " " Ah, I understand ; you want me to relate the story to you, and I have no objection to do so, since we have no other work to engage us here at present. " Many, many hundred years ago, when the rivers had just purified the lake, an elderly woman went to fetch water from it, accompanied by a daughter seven years old. The child fell into the lake, and rolled down into THE CHILKA LAKE, ETC. 175 a depth from which the woman was unable to extricate her. The mother wept loudly and bitterly, and called on all the gods to save her offspring, when out came an enormous serpent from the bottom of the lake. " ' If I can save the girl from the water/ said the serpent, ' wilt thou give her in marriage to me ? ' " The mother said ' Ay/ little dreaming that a serpent would ever insist on the completion of such a promise. " The serpent thereupon dived back into the bottom and brought out the child. " ' O, mother/ said the girl, ' the serpent was telling me that you have betrothed me to him. How could you do that ? ' " ' Foolish girl, it was only jestingly proposed and agreed to. What can a serpent want to marry you for ? ' " Years went \)y, and the girl grew up, and many men sought her hand, for she was very pretty to look at. But, just when the mother was about to select a proper husband for her, out came the serpent from the bed of the lake and entered her hut. "Both the mother and her daughter were terribly frightened. " ' Why do you look so afeard ? I come only to claim my wife/ "' Your wife?' " ' Yes, mine. Did you not promise her to me ? ' " The mother hung down her head without being able to give a distinct reply ; but she felt that the promise had to be fulfilled, and the girl was married to the serpent. " ' But my child cannot live under the water with you/ said she in an expostulating tone to her son-in-law. 1 76 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. " ' Ah, that is not necessary/ answered the serpent. ' She can remain with you, as now, and I shall visit her here / and the serpent came nightly to his wife, trans- forming himself into a man as long as he remained with her. " ( Well, how do you like your husband, child ? ' " ' Very well, surely/ was the daughter's reply ; and she explained to her astonished parent that in bed he always assumed the form of a man. " ' Why don't you try to find out his secret then ? He is perhaps a god or other supernatural being in disguise/ " The girl promised to do so, and on the very next night the serpent found his little wife sulky and silent when he came to her. "'Why, what is the cause of this mood, my love? What are you distempered for ? ' "'I am your wife, and you say you love me; why then do you conceal anything from me ? To this moment you have not told me who you really are. You show yourself as a serpent and a man by turns. There must be some mystery in that. Why should I not know what it is?' " The serpent was not well pleased that his wife should have become curious about his appearance so soon. But he loved her intensely, and was unwilling to speak unkindly to her. " ' If there be a mystery in my life/ said he, ' why should you be so anxious to know it when it may pos- sibly grieve you to do so, or fill your mind with fears ? It may be that I have some very important secrets to keep, which you will not probably be able to cherish as carefully. Is it not enough that you know that I am a man in reality, and that I love you tenderly ? ' THE CHILKA LAKE, ETC. 177 " f No ; how can that be enough to one who loves you more than she loves her own self ? If you have any great secrets to keep, though you may not share them with others, you ought surely to share them with me; and I am certain that I shall be able to preserve them quite as carefully as you do. What is not comfort- able to me is to suspect that I have not your whole heart, that I do not even know who you really are ; and it is particularly painful to me to be twitted by everyone as a serpent's wife, when in reality I am no such thing at all.' " ' Ah, that name you must bear for the present, for my sake, my love. I will not hide from you that I am really a man, as you see me now, and a prince of the Naga race; but the time has not come for either you or me to reveal it to the world. I have a great enemy in Vikramaditya, the King of Oujein, who is Sdkddwisha, or the foe of our race, and I am obliged to hide myself from him in this disguise, which a god has permitted me to assume. But the day of vengeance is coming, and people will not twit you long as a serpent's wife. And now you must love me very dearly, for you know the great secret that I had hitherto kept wholly to myself.' " The wife was satisfied, and her mother also ; and the Naga's secret was well kept between them. A few years later Vikramaditya was defeated and killed by Salivahana, after which the serpent's wife had the satisfaction of being widely recognised as the conqueror's queen. Another and more generally accepted account, however, makes Salivahana the son of the marriage between the serpent and the girl, the former being taken for the god Nag Panchanan, to whom this shrine has ever since been dedicated." 178 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. CHAPTER XXV. THE NEW REBELLION. BANPOKE is the extremest southern pergunnah of Pooree, and is situated on the western side of the Chilka lake. It consists of two large fertile valleys, and is bounded on three sides by hills and jungle, and on the fourth by the lake, and forms part of the estate of Khoordah, the Ze- mindar of which is the hereditary custodian of Jagganath. The pergunnah was divided in the past into Seemds, or Mahals, to which were attached Dulbehrds, or pdik leaders, holding from sixty to one hundred beegahs of jyghere land; Bissoees, or sub-leaders, holding from forty to eighty beegahs of land; Ndiks, or village headmen, holding from ten to twenty beegahs of land; and Pinks, who held smaller jygheres at one time, but to whom such allotments came afterwards to be refused, which made them disaffected. The people throughout this part of the country and the contiguous districts had at all times been unfriendly to the British Raj, and there had been several previous risings in Goomsur and Khoordah, of which one in 1817 was the most violent. The chief concocters of the rebellion of 1836, to which we now refer, were three persons, named Lochun Bis- soee, the son of a rebel pardoned in 1817; Panchoo Naik, a wealthy middleman of Rorung; and Kirtibas Patsahanee, the dulbehrd of a decayed castle named THE NE W REBELLION. 1 7 9 Gurh Arung, who was persuaded by the first and the second to join their cause. Besides these there were some factious Zemindars and their hirelings from Bengal, who had come over especially to plan the revolt ; and it was by their advice that the wild Ooryah races were mainly guided. The castle of Arung stood in the centre of a cluster of cliffs, at a short distance inland from the borders of the Chilka lake. It had a half-ruined and singular appear- ance, the singularity being principally attributable to the construction of the building in parts and at different periods, without any attention to architectural unifor- mity. At the foot of the castle was a large table-rock which was selected as the site for a general meeting just before the revolt broke out. All the disaffected Khonds and pdiks of Arung and the surrounding country were summoned to muster here with their arms, and did so with alacrity ; and the chiefs we have named moved backwards and forwards among them to incite them to action, encouraging the impassive and extolling the bold. " The men are all in excellent spirits/' said Kirtibas, speaking to Panchoo, who was distinguished by a bow in his hand decked with rattles of gold. " You had better take advantage of their temper and get yourself proclaimed as their king." " That is a post of honour indeed," replied Panchoo, "but of danger also, and might well make one pause before committing himself." "You must not shrink from the danger though," said Lochun. " We are playing for a high stake, and must play out the game as bravely as we may." " Why should not Kirtibas or you then accept the royal post ? " asked Panchoo. N 2 i8o THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. " Because the people will not have us, and we have no money to support the dignity of the office." " There must be no hesitation now," observed the Ghattal Baboo, " or the expedition will come to an end before it has started." "There is no hesitation, sir/' answered Panchoo proudly. " Deliberation is not hesitation, and it is always right to appreciate the danger we embrace. I have made up my mind now, and you may announce to the people that I have assumed the Raj of Banpore under the royal name of Surn Sing, and that I require their assistance to put down the British power." The announcement was made, and was received with tremendous cheering ; and a rebel force of about four hundred men was mustered at once on the spot, and began to increase hourly, till by the evening of the second day it was nearly doubled. Among the chiefs who came forward were several of the old Goomsur rebels, and at their suggestion the insurgents proceeded at once to Banpore to take possession of the place. " Wherefore to Banpore ? " asked a dulbherd named Pritha. " Is not the British power rather strongly posted there at this moment ? " " 0, no ! " said the Ghattal Baboo. " The sepoys and burkundauzes there, taken together, do not exceed some eighty or a hundred men. But they have firearms with them." " So have we," said Lochun. " Let us go and attack the Police thannah. to commence with." " Forward then to Banpore ! " cried Panchoo ; and they marched pell-mell, uphill and downhill, and through cane-brakes and jungles, to get to it. The thannah at Banpore was a little fortified place, THE NEW REBELLION. 181 rather well situated on an elevated platform. Its walls were of no strength to speak of, but there was a broad and deep ditch beyond them, which had to be crossed, and the crossing was disputed by the thannah guard, who turned out in numbers to receive their assailants. " Bring out your muskets/'' said the Daroga to his men, " and shoot at the knaves bravely ! " and three shots were fired by the Daroga himself, which forced the Khonds and pdilcs to fall back at first in some confusion. The repulse, however, was only a momentary one. The sepoys under the Daroga were raw recruits merely, and utterly unskilled in the use of the muskets they held in their hands ; and their firing was so badly aimed that the insurgents were easily reassured by their chiefs to return to the charge. " Press on ! Press on ! " shouted Kirtibas, rushing himself at the same time into the thickest of the fight, and dealing lusty strokes with his battle-axe on every side ; and Panchoo and Lochun bringing up their best- trained soldiers to his support, the ditch was soon crossed, and the thannah captured, the guard, with the Daroga at their head, betaking to their heels. " The day is ours, friends ! " cried Panchoo, exultiugly. " Shoot at the mean-spirited hirelings while they are running for their lives." " Let us rather push up our success in other directions," said Lochun, " that the whole country may submit to us simultaneously/' and they followed up their advantage accordingly for two whole days and nights. As there were no opponents, however, to fight with, their strength was mainly exercised in the destruction of houses and other property ; and, after the thannah and salt-chowkey premises were burnt down, they fell on the houses of the 1 82 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. people and of the foreign residents of the place, and destroyed them without pity or remorse. They also ex- torted large sums of money from the merchants to make up the funds required for prosecuting the war ; and their physical strength was at the same time largely augmented by the budmdshes of the country joining them in hopes of plunder. " We had better proceed to Burkowl now/' said Pan- choo, " which will place a wider extent of country under our command ;" and this being generally agreed to they went thither in state, the Rajah being conveyed in a pdlki which had been procured for him, while Kirtibas and Lochun accompanied him on horseback, and the rest of the chieftains on foot. The bustle and excitement throughout the march was great, and the reception at Burkowl was as warm as could have been anticipated. A large additional force of pdiks joined them at this place ; and, flush of money and men, the insurgent cause was looking very hopeful at this time. "Well, Sunyasi, give us your dsirvdd," said Panchoo, the moment he saw him. " You have come very late to join us." " Don't say that, Rajah, or you will make us truly sorrowful. The enterprise has only just commenced ; nor have we been idle here either, for all the men who are joining you at this moment are of our raising." " 0, we knew of your arrival betimes/' remarked the Rajah, " and were watching what you were doing. Kharga Bahadoor's reputation as a soldier has travelled before him, and he should have the lead of the troops you have raised." This was cheerfully agreed to, and very great was the assistance rendered to the general cause both by Kharga THE NE W REBELLION. 183 Bahadoor and his companion. But their efforts were spent in petty skirmishes only. No real opposition on behalf of the Government was ever attempted at Burkowl and the surrounding country ; and it was torture alike to Kliarga Bahadoor and the Sunyasi to see the strength of their little army wasted in acts of mischief and oppres- sion. All the bungalows of the Salt Department were burnt to the ground, to which the Sunyasi did not especi- ally object, his antipathy against the Government being deep-rooted ; but, when the village non-combatants in Burkowl, Munrajpore, Charpadan, and other places were wantonly attacked, he strongly protested against the outrage, and was warmly backed up by Kharga Bahadoor. " This will never do," said both of them together. " If we act like vultures and cormorants, swooping down upon everyone indiscriminately, the whole country will be rising up against us to befriend the English power." "Let them do so then," said Kirtibas, " and we shall put down the country and the English power together. Woe be to him who attempts to quench our ardour, or to misdirect its operation, at this moment." " Would I had understood these savages aright," mur- mured the Sunyasi, regretfully; "they do not seem to be fit for the work they have undertaken. This is a mere renewal of the Ferazee game played out from Narkel- beriah, and every outrage thus committed is sure to hurry on the day of retribution." There was, however, no time now for reproaches and regrets. The fighting went on as the pdik chiefs wished it, and opposition, where offered, was effectually put down. The despoiled inhabitants of the country saw the de- struction of their effects in blank dismay, and for some time sought only for any possible means of escape. 1 84 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. Despairing of this they began to become venturesome; but they still relied more on their brains than on their arms for relief. " 0, Rajah, you have become the ruler of our country, and should not hunt down your own subjects in- this fashion," said a village spokesman, addressing Panchoo. " We can help you both with men and money if you will only spare us our homesteads." " Where be your men and money then ? " said Lochun, speaking on behalf of Panchoo. " Why are they not forthcoming at once ? " " They are not here, chiefs, but at Bheempore. We thought you would wish to risk an attack on Pooree, which alone can give you a decisive advantage over the English, and have sent forward our warriors to wait for you on the road, to join you promptly as you march up." "Let us press on to Pooree then," said Lochun. " There is no need for trifling away our time in this place further." " You must not be so eager as that, though," said the Sunyasi. " The Government forces are now assembling at Tanghy, and we should not go forward to meet them till we are sure of our allies." "We are perfectly sure of them," said Panchoo. " There is no reason whatever to doubt that they are well attached to the good cause." " But I do suspect them," said the Sunyasi, " and will be so bold as to say so. It looks as if they have laid a trap for us, to ensnare us." " Ha ! art thou afeard, Sunyasi ? " cried Lochun grimly, looking him straight in the face. " If not, why this un- seemly agitation when there is so little occasion for it ? " "I have fought before, chief/' replied the Sunyasi, THE NEW REBELLION. 185 " and boldly too, though I am so much older and weaker than you are ; and I hope to fight again, even where you will fight yourself. But this I will say, for the occasion demands of me to do so, that that chief is not worthy of command who thinks counsel a proof of cowardice." " No quarrel among friends and brethren here," shouted Kirtibas ; " no excitement of any sort till we are baited against the enemy. Forward ! forward ! The Kajah desires every warrior to push on." " But we are at the crisis of our fate," said Kharga Bahadoor, " and if we are betrayed by this hurried move- ment we shall be hopelessly undone." " No, no," said Kirtibas, " both you and the Sunyasi are much too suspicious, as all Bengalis are. Let us press on to Bheempore, and, with the additional men awaiting us there, we shall have but to stretch forth our arms to secure the possession of Pooree." They did move on to Bheempore, and, as had been feared by the Sunyasi, fell into the snare laid for them, being inclosed all at once by a large body of men who had been lying in wait for them there. Panchoo and Kirtibas were the first to be captured ; but Lochun fell fighting bravely, resisting his assailants to the last. " Down with them ! " cried he. " Down with the fiends incarnate who have betrayed us ! I at least will kill as many of the cowards as I can. Let those who wish to do likewise follow me." Saying this he rushed forward to attack the human girdle that encompassed them, for he was a bold man and true, and had never known a fear ; and he was closely followed by the Sunyasi and Kharga Bahadoor. " Strike, and strike deep, Kharga Bahadoor. I am wounded and dying, and can do no more. 0, Sunyasi ! 1 86 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. excuse me my intemperate words, and avenge my death if you can." The struggle was now hopeless, from the mass of fresh enemies that came against them from all sides ; and, see- ing that it was useless to prolong it, the Sunyasi broke through the multitude around him, dragging Kharga Bahadoor with him. " Come away, Kharga Bahadoor, come away. We can be of no further service here, and have really not a moment now to lose ;" and they had barely time to escape from the spot, while most of the other chiefs who lingered there were captured, at the same time that word was sent to the British authorities to come over and take charge of the prisoners. " This game too is lost," said the Sunyasi to his com- panion in flight, " and the avengers of blood will be after us once more. We had better resume our old names again, and fly." " Is there any way out of this untoward place ? " " We must find one, my son, and may as well start for the forest-country through Nyagurh." When the English forces came down to Bheempore the principal rebels had all been arrested by the people, and no difficulty was experienced in tracing up and capturing their aiders and abettors. In all ninety-two persons were brought to trial and punished, the Rajah and Kirtibas, with some old Goomsur rebels, being transported for life, while the subordinate chiefs were sentenced to various terms of imprisonment. Thepdiks, or ryots, were allowed to settle down as peaceful inhabitants, which put out the last embers of the rebellion ; and the people of Bheem- pore were handsomely rewarded for the loyalty they had displayed. THE BEDIYA DOMES. 187 CHAPTER XXVI. THE BEDIYA DOMES. ' ' WE must have cleared a good distance, Babajee, in five days," said Monohur, after the lapse of that interval since their departure from Bheempore. " Am I wrong 1 in my reckoning in thinking that we are safe from pursuit by this time ? " " Well, I am not quite sure of that yet/' replied the Sunyasi, " and dare not think that we shall be altogether out of danger till we are able to overtake the encamp- ment of the Bediya Domes, located somewhere further in the forest." " But how do you make out that there is such an encampment anywhere in this place ?" " By seeing Bediya Domes every now and then passing and repassing us. Have you not observed them ?" " Yes ; and you think they have an encampment hard by?" ({ I am sure of it. They do not move about the country as isolated passengers/' " And do you think we shall be secure from pursuit among them ? " " If they admit us into their company, which, how- ever, is very doubtful. They do not care to mix with other people ; nor are other people very anxious to have anything to do with them. They are pilf ei'ers and dacoits r88 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. by profession, and have very disgusting habits besides ; but once with them we would be safe from the pursuit of the police, for the police are afraid to approach them." " Why so ? " " Because the men use their knives very freely on the smallest provocation, and the women bespatter their assailants not only with abuse, but with filth of every kind." " How should we prevail on them then to allow us to take up our quarters with them ? " " Ah, that must be left to the chapter of accidents. We cannot prearrange for that/' The supposition of the Sunyasi was correct, for it was soon found that the Bediya Domes had encamped in the forest half-way between Nyagurh and Duspulla, and it was about mid-day when our fugitives overtook them there. They did not, however, come forward at once to join them ; it was absolutely necessary that they should keep away from them at a distance, till they could find some likely plea to introduce themselves. " I fear I am no match for the craft of these slippery fellows/' said the Sunyasi to himself, almost losing hope from delay. " How to make a favourable impression on them, such as would induce them to extend their pro- tection to us, I really cannot conceive." Just at that moment they heard an uproar in the encampment, caused by a young vagrant having wounded his brother's wife with a hatchet. This family had a shed of their own in the encampment where they lived and messed, and here the girl had been quarrelling with her mother-in-law, when her brother-in-law came in. " What are you quarrelling with mother for ? " " What is that to you, you brute ? " THE BEDIYA DOMES. 189 " Barest thou to abuse me, vixen ? And won't I break your head for it ? " " Will you ? Take this then to begin with ;" and she gave him two 'smart blows with the broom, with which she was sweeping the ground. The young man, greatly angered, took up his axe, which was at hand, and struck his assailant on the right shoulder, which felled her to the ground. Monohur was the first to rush in to assist the girl, but was sharply repulsed by her, severely hurt as she was. " Who are you ? And why do you interfere between us?" " You are hurt; let me bandage the wound, or you will lose much blood." " But why should it concern you whether I am hurt or not ? Is it not my own husband's brother who has struck me ? " " He had no right to strike you, surely ? >; "Of course he had. My husband strikes me every day, and why should not his brother strike me occasionally now and then ? It is you who have no business with us, or to be amongst us at all ;" and this appeared also to be the opinion of the Bediyas generally, who looked with no kindly feelings towards Monohur. It was now that the Sunyasi came to the fore. "I am a doctor/' said he, "and this young man," pointing to Monohur, "is niy pupil. We have no occasion to intrude upon you, indeed, as the girl has properly observed ; but, if you will allow us, we shall be glad to heal the rather distressing hurt she has received." " If you can do that you are welcome/' said the brother-in-law of the wounded woman, who was already sorry for what he had done; and this saying being 190 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. approved by a nod from the elders of the tribe, the Sun- yasi moved forward to exhibit his knowledge of pharmacy. " We shall try our best by all means," said he, and, taking the girl by the hand, he went through his task with an easy confidence that made everyone expectant and hopeful. The wound was bandaged with a piece of thin cloth which was ordered to be kept wet, while the doctor muttered charms to his patient in a sing-song tone. In the meantime Monohur was despatched to collect some wild herbs which were named to him, and, these being found, their juice was squeezed out and the wet cloth saturated with it. The wound was superficial, though it had bled much, and the vegetable juice closed it in a short time to a considerable extent, at the same time that the pain was also much allayed ; and the Sunyasi and Monohur made good their quarters among the Bediyaa on the force of this introduction. " If you have any articles of value with you/' said the girl to her doctor, " you had better trust them with me, or otherwise you will surely miss them before the night is over ;" and the Sunyasi, who fully understood the significance of the advice, gave up his purse to her keeping. The contents of the bag were searchingly examined by the young woman. "Why,- you are poorer than I imagined/' said she at last to the Sunyasi. " I took you for people well to do in life. Are you really so penniless as this purse indicates ? " " At present, yes/' answered the Sunyasi. " The luck has gone against us in all our speculations, and we are exactly in the condition you find us in." THE BEDIYA DOMES. 191 " Ah, that is not my business, but yours. I asked only to be certain that you kept back no part of your money with you, for that, you must understand, may be very dangerous to you/' " I understand it fully, my child/' said the Sunyasi. " We have nothing with us now but our clothes." The girl nodded her belief in what he said, hid the purse under her garment, and strode away. "Will she return the purse to us, Babajee, do you think ? " " She may. If she does not we shall not be greater losers than if we had attempted to keep it with us, for, in the latter case, we would have run the double risk of being robbed and of having our throats cut in the bargain/' Their doubts respecting the girl's honesty were, how- ever, unfounded. She was very faithfully disposed towards them, and grateful for the service they had rendered her ; and she did all in her power to make their stay with the tribe as comfortable as possible. A canvas-covered hut was assigned to them, in case they wished to make use of it ; and all their other wants were met to the extent their circumstances required. "All our hopes are blasted, Babajee," said Monohur to the Sunyasi, despondingly, as they sat by each other before their hut, as the guests of a vagrant tribe. " My penchant for a soldier's life has brought nothing but dis- appointment to me." 1 ' The most successful life, my son, is only a tissue of disappointments. We must try to rise superior to them." " What for ? Have you any especial object yet in view for me ? Are there any more enterprises to undertake, any laurels yet to gain ? " T 9 2 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. "Possibly, yes; probably, not. But we must go on steadily as if there were, and, if you have the best species of courage in you patience you may yet fight your way to success." " Ah, you speak, Babajee, as if you expect another call from the Ghattal Baboo soon. Do you ? " " No ; I am not aware that there is any game now on foot anywhere in which you or I could take part ; nor am I very certain that the Ghattal Baboo has been able to effect his escape from Bheempore, though I wish heartily that he may have done so/' " I do not anticipate otherwise/' said Monohur. " He has hitherto succeeded in eluding all traps and dangers, and has always been wandering over the country in what manner he chose; and, judging from our own escape, there seems to be no reason to suppose that he should have failed in what we were able to achieve. Bu_t who is the man, Babajee ? He carries a peculiar expression about him ; a face with a story in it, if I may say so. Does he not ? " The Sunyasi nodded assent, and said " Yes, there is a story connected with the man, though I don't know that you would care to listen to it, for it has not much of novelty in it." " 0, that does not matter, Babajee. If it does not involve any betrayal of secrets or confidences I would certainly wish to hear the account, for I cannot get the thought of the Baboo out of my mind." " Very good then ; I shall give you the main points of his history as briefly as I can. " The Ghattal Baboo is a relative of the Rajahs of Ghattal, whom you may have hea,rd of, but is not owned by them as such. The family lived originally at Dutto- THE BED1YA DOMES. 193 pookur, near Baraset, where they were at one time in great power. It was represented by two brothers, named Radha Mohun and Bipprodass, at the time that Ali Verdy Khan was Nawab of Moorshedabad. The brothers quarrelled for a trifle the possession of a Debdlaya which was separately claimed by each and, Radha Mohun retaining it forcibly, Bipprodass went over to Ali Verdy, and made some very secret revelations to him which tantalised him. The annual profits of the zemin- dary, he said, exceeded fifty times the khazana that was paid to the Nawab; and, on the Nawab proceeding to inquire into this point, Radha Mohun fled to evade the investigation. Ali Verdy thereupon seized all his pro- perty, and carried off his women ; but, as Radha Mohun was a better administrator than Bipprodass, he was eventually recalled and restored into favour. Radha Mohun continued his residence thenceforth at Ghattal, the place to which he had fled, and in course of time the family property at Duttopookur was lost. The Ghattal Baboo represents Bipprodass's branch of the family. He went to Ghattal in the hope of ingratiating himself with his rich relatives there, but they refused to have anything to do with him for his extraordinary ways ; and he has been a wanderer ever since in search of that good fortune which so many seek for, and so few are able to find." " Poor man ! I feel very much for him ; perhaps the more so that my Adaysto seems to be very akin to his, and our chances of eventual good fortune nearly equal in degree." "And yet it may be that both he and you may alike meet with good fortune. in the end, my son. I shall tell you a story of Adaysto that I heard many years ago. i 9 4 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. It will, at least, help us to while away a half-hour or so of idleness here." " Say on then, by all means, and I shall give you as patient a hearing as your tale may deserve. I trust it may have the effect of lulling me to sleep." The reader will find the story in the next chapter, which he may read through or skip over as he likes. ADA YSTO. 195 CHAPTER XXVII. ADA YSTO. IT is wasting words to say that the Sunyasi was fond of telling tales, and had a happy manner of doing so, and that Monohur was equally fond of hearing them, particu- larly when they were related by his companion. " There were two brothers," said the Sunyasi, " one of whom was rich and the other poor, and they lived side by side of each other, one in extreme affluence, the other in extreme poverty, without the latter asking for help, or the former offering it to him. " Said the wife of the poor man to her husband : ' Why don't you go to your rich brother and ask him to assist you ? Don't you see that even his servants fare better than we do ? ' " ' Ah, silly wife,' said the poor man, ' the rich have no poor relations. There is a gulf between me and my brother which cannot be crossed. If I go to him he will perhaps disdain to remember that he has, or ever had, a brother, and that would be an additional grief to us.' " ' Why not try him once before coming to such a conclusion ? One should not hesitate to seek the aid of his own brother in distress as you do. If you were not ashamed to apply for his assistance I am sure he would not feel abashed to acknowledge the claim/ o 2 196 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. " Well, the man went to his rich brother, if only to please his wife ; and he went straight up to him, and bluntly spoke of his misfortunes. But the rich man met him with a contemptuous look, and would scarcely listen to him patiently ; and the few words he said were cold and cutting as steel. " ' What I have, brother/ said he, ' I have earned my- self. No one has helped me ; I did not seek for the help of anyone. Had you worked as hard and lived as care- fully as I did you too would have been equally successful. You need not waste your time here, for I have nothing whatever to give to you/ ' " Ah, I dare say," said Monohur, " that the Ghattal Baboo received some similar rebuff from his Rajah relatives before becoming the outcast he now is." " Possibly he did. In the story that I was telling the poor brother raised his hand with an effort to wipe away the sweat which bathed his brow, and was barely able to stammer out a remonstrance. " ' What you say, brother/ said he, ' is not wholly applicable to me. I did work hard, very hard indeed, and lived most carefully also ; but while fortune smiled on you she always showed me a frowning face/ " ' That is ever the excuse of the lazy and the im- provident/ returned the rich man with a scornful smile. ' If you are really so unlucky there is the less reason for you to cross my threshold, since ill-luck is said to be infectious. Why don't you get away now ? I have other business to attend to/ " The poor brother turned round with a burning face, and groped his way out of the house without answering a word; but he was unable to return home at once, and slunk away towards the forest with tears in his eyes. ADAYSTO. 197 " ' What are you crying for ? ' asked an old woman he met with. " ' Ah, you won't understand me. I am crying because I am so miserable/ " ' But why are you miserable ? ' " ' Because I am so poor. I have nothing at home to eat ; and my wife and children there are starving/ " ' Why don't you work work hard, and work late ? ' " ' I do ; but my ill-fortune thwarts me.' "'Then shake off your ill-fortune, man. Go, and do as I bid you. A few paces further on in the forest you will find an old and decayed tree. Break it down and take the wood home and sell it. It will give you food for the day at least, if it does not yield anything more/ " ' Thank you/ said the poor man ; ' I shall do as you direct. Why, indeed, should I not be a wood-cutter to find food for my children ? ' " He went up to the tree with greater alacrity than he had gone to his brother's house, and found it to be an old and withered trunk, but not very large to carry. " ' What am I to cut it with ? ' asked he of himself, as he remembered that he had no cutting instrument with him. ' But, never mind, I will break it down, and take it home bodily on my shoulders. It will certainly get me a few pyce for the expenses of the day.' " He exerted himself to break down the tree, but it came up by the roots; and lo ! there was a black polished stone beneath, with a ring attached to it to lift it by. " ' Ha ! what can this mean ? ' " He pulled up the stone by the ring, and went down to a vault below and found untold riches there gold, pearls, and precious stones and felt that his ill-fortune 198 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. had dismounted from his shoulders, for they had suddenly grown lighter. " ' Good heavens ! Whose can all this wealth be ? Would I do right in taking away any portion of it, since it is lying unused and useless here?' asked he of himself. c< ' Whose, but yours/ the riches before him seemed to reply. * Your very own ! Why do 'you stare at us in that witless way ? Take us away with you from this place/ And he did take up as much of them as he could conveniently carry, and went home after replacing the stone where it had lain before, covering it up with the tree he had broken down. " ' Stop ! stop ! ' cried a voice from the vault before the stone was fully replaced, ' you must not leave me behind you/ " The poor man got alarmed, and closed the stone the more securely after him, hurrying home with what he had obtained. It was his ill-fortune that lay buried underneath the black stone. " ' We have enough now/ he whispered softly to his wife, '' to live upon in ease to the end of our days, and this should keep us in content.' " ' To be sure it should. But how have all these riches been obtained ? ' " ' You shall know all. I think an angel from heaven has given them to me / and he narrated the story of his good fortune to her very faithfully, not omitting to speak of the debate he had in his mind before appropriating the discovered wealth, and how it was silenced. " The poor man now became a rich man, and people wondered how it had happened. His brother in particular ADAYSTO. 199 became very envious, for the once poor man was now the richer of the two. " He came to his brother and asked him how he had managed to become so rich. " ' O, by following your advice, brother, by working hard and living carefully.' " ' Keally ? ' answered the once richer brother incre- dulously. ' Nothing more than that ? Surely you are not telling the true secret to me ? ' "'Nay then, my brother, if you must fain know the truth, it is simply this : It is Heaven's will that I should be what I am, and not the result of any act of my own. It was Providence itself that directed me to what I have secured/ " Getting no other answer from his brother the envious man went away in a huff, and, still wishing to know the secret, he set his wife to find it out from his brother's wife ; and, as women will blab, the latter made a clean breast of everything she had heard herself, except about the strange voice in the vault, which she forgot to speak of. " ' Now we shall secure the rest of the riches easily,' said the envious brother to himself, ' and be the richer of the two again ;' and he went into the forest, driv- ing a bullock before him. "He discovered the stone where his sister-in-law had described it to be, and opened it, and, laying upon his bullock all the treasure he found in the vault, was pre- paring to come away. At this moment he heard the mysterious voice crying out : ' Stop ! stop ! You must take me with you, to be sure.' ' ' ' Who are you, then, and where are you ? I can- not see you.' 200 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. " ' It does not matter. You will feel me as soon as I am at your side, and I shall be a constant friend to you, and will never part company with you ;' and he felt as if a blast of air waved over him, and finally settled on his shoulders. " The wealth was brought home, and the envious man was now much, very much, richer than his unenvyiug brother ; but somehow or other his expenses increased greatly from his becoming vicious in his habits, till he was ruined by the very riches he had obtained. " The tables were now turned, and he had to go to his unenvying brother for help. " ' 0, my brother, I come to beseech assistance from you in my need.' " ' Why, what has brought you down so low ? ' " ' My ill-fortune.' " ' Your ill-fortune ! Ah, she has shifted her seat then from my shoulders to yours. I shall not send you away empty-handed from my door, my brother, as you did me from yours. But take care you do not leave your com- panion behind you when you go/ >: " I wish/' exclaimed Monohur, " I could dismount my ill-fortune from my shoulders as easily, Babajee, as the poor man in your story was able to fling off his j but mine seems to be too firmly seated to be so summarily dislodged." " 0," said the Sunyasi, " our affairs shape their own course, and in good time even your ill- fortune will have to get down, whether she likes it or not." " Let us hope that it may do so soon then," replied Monohur, k< for I am drifting into despair." It was late in the night when the tale was finished ; but Monohur was still restless, and could not sleep. ADA YSTO. 201 What made him the more uneasy was a deep wailing voice that came from a Bediya shed far at the end of the encampment. " 0, Babajee ! I am distressed and cannot sleep. Who is it that is crying so bitterly, and what is she crying for ? " "You need not heed the cry at all, Monohur/' said the Sunyasi. " It comes from a foolish woman, simply because she has not seen her son, a grown up boy of fourteen or fifteen, for a week. The boy went out on a pilfering expedition from which he has not yet returned, and the woman is so silly as to lament for him as if he were dead, to the utter disgust of the elders of her race, such grief being altogether opposed to the Bediya creed." " Ah ! " exclaimed Monohur, " if a son's absence of seven short days so vexes a vagrant mother, how very distressed must my mother now be in not having seen me for nearly seven years ? I must start for home this instant, Babajee, to see her." " 0, Monohur, what fancy is this ? Is it, can it be necessary to remind you that even now we are fleeing for our lives ? And can you think of moving in a direction in which you are sure to be captured by enemies who will never think of sparing you ? " " I must take the risk, Babajee, for I have resolved to see my mother. Go to her I will, and at once. But I don't say that I shall not come back to you again, if I can do so. The rains have begun to fall, and for the next three or four months your progress towards the Tirthasthans will not be great. Before the expiration of that time I trust to be at your side once more. But you must not attempt to dissuade me from going back to Boua Ghat forthwith; for I have decided on doing so." 202 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. " Tliis is what I had feared/' thought the Sunyasi within himself; but the crisis had come, and it was use- less discussing further about it. " If you must go go with a stout heart, my son," said he, " and may Naggesur Mahadeva take you under his especial protection, for very much will you require his support." HOME, AS MONOHUR FOUND IT. 203 CHAPTER XXVIII. HOME, AS MONOHUE FOUND IT. THE wish to return home had arisen, and Monohur stopped not to think of the dangers that were risked. He had to go back, and would do so regardless of consequences, for the desire to see his mother had grown into a pain; and the journey was undertaken with feverish energy, though the weather had already be- come wet and nasty, and the way to retrace was so long. It was a hurried start, unaccompanied by any disposi- tion to loiter on the road ; and the penitent son moved on as fast as dooli-daks and boats could carry him, his spirit rising as he passed through well-remembered dis- tricts and villages that brought him nearer and nearer to his native place. " We are tired of pushing on at this rate," would his bearers frequently remonstrate, in the vain hope of being able to induce him to go by easier stages. He did not feel the tedium they complained of ; he could not imagine how anyone could tire on such an errand as his ; and he hurried forward more and more vehemently, till, after a continuous journey of twenty odd days, the familiar trees of Bona Ghat arose before him. But there had been many changes at the place which quite surprised and staggered him. The village was be- 204 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. fore at all times a busy one, but the life that should have pervaded it was now wanting. The grounds were all over- grown with nettles and long grass, and bore a subdued and joyless look; and even the famous mango-grove, which used always to be kept so scrupulously clean, pre- sented the appearance of an impervious jungle. The roads and temple-squares, too, instead of being thronged with passengers, as in the past, were nearly vacant ; and the people who were seen in and about them did not even recognise their Zemindar as he passed by them. "My features must have undergone many and great changes within the last few years/' thought Monohur, " which probably accounts for their not recollecting me. But how is it that I cannot recognise any of my ryots, and why why has the place become so desolate and weird-like ? " He alighted from his dooli almost immediately after entering the village, and, dismissing his bearers, pro- ceeded homeward on foot. " The evening is beautiful, and a mile's walk ought to brace up my nerves," murmured he to himself. " I am coming back to those who have missed me long, and should make the best appearance among them that I can/' What his feelings were as he came nearer to his house we shall not attempt to describe. He had met with no kind faces in the streets, but had still hoped to find plenty of them at home. How great was his dismay then, when, on approaching the big white building of his fathers, he saw that its doors and windows were closed, and a settled gloom reigning over it and its surroundings. Not a living creature was visible anywhere neither ser- vants, nor horses, nor kine ; the place had, in fact, all the appearance of having been deserted, perhaps ever HOME, AS MONOHUR FOUND IT. 205 since the ime lie had left it ; and he stood alone by the scenes of his joyous boyhood, staring blankly at a gate that would not open to receive him. " What can this mean ? Where are they gone ? Had any great calamity befallen the family V He ventured to knock at the gate at last, and, after a short delay, a shrill female voice asked from within what was wanted. "Open the door and you will know," answered Monohur. " To whom shall we open it ? " asked the same piercing voice again. Monohur gave his name. " Ah ! Come back at last ? " " Yes," said Monohur, " and I am quite confounded to find the house all shut up, with its grounds overgrown with jungle, and its gate rusty and locked." The door was now opened, and two or three women were seen passing and repassing, among whom Monohur recognised the withered face of an old aunt, now looking more withered than ever. She was a tall, thin woman, with dark tangled locks, hollow cheeks, and a sharp nose ; and her eyes, which were at all times brilliant, were now sparkling like fire. " O, aunt, where is my mother ? Where are our other relatives and friends ? " " They are all in the house, and will be soon coming forth to greet you. Don't you fret, my boy, for their delay. You must be hungry. Satisfy your hunger first, and you shall see them presently." Monohur was puzzled and knew not how to understand her. He looked again and again at her face, but that afforded no such information as he wished for. She had 206 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. set before him some sweetmeats on a silver recab, and alongside of it was a silver tumbler to drink from, but this was empty. " 0, aunt, give me a little water first to drink, for I am very thirsty/' The aunt was standing at some distance from him, and extended a hand at least four cubits long to pour out water into the tumbler from a lotah at her side. The young man was terribly frightened ; he could scarcely breathe : but even at this extremity he made a mechanical effort not to betray any terror on his face. He affected to drink the water given to him, but did not ; poured out some of it to moisten his face with, and then said that he would go to wash himself in a neighbouring tank, by which time he hoped to see his mother there, and to get hot rice and curry to eat, which he would prefer to sweetmeats. " Yes, boy, come back quickly. Your mother is coming, and everything you want will be immediately ready." He started when the words " your mother is coming " were mentioned, and saw a shade as of his mother ad- vancing towards him, and he felt a gentle breath pass across his cheeks. He approached the phantom with an agony of love, even though his knees were tottering in fear ; but it retreated as he advanced. He followed it to the extremity of the room, but could get no further. A low, hoarse moaning, hardly louder than a whisper, was all the sound that came to him from the shade, and, as Monohur bounded out of the house by one strong effort, it vanished before him with a sigh. In the deadly terror that possessed him Monohur ran off he knew not whither, but stopped on coming up to a HOME, AS MONOHUR FOUND IT, 207 tnoodi's shop at the nearest crossing, though his knees were still striking against each other. " Did not that old house there belong to the Ze- mindars of Bona Ghat ? " asked he of the shopkeeper, whom he could barely recognise as one of his former tenants. "Yes; but they have all died within the last five years/' " All ? " " Ay, all ; with the exception of the heir, who slunk off from the house with a Fakir some seven years ago, and has never since been heard of." " Then who occupy the house at present ? " " No one, unless it be the spirits of the dead, for the house has got a bad name." " But how came it that all of such a large household have disappeai-ed at once ? " " 0, don't you know that there was a fearful inundation in these parts, followed by a yet more fearful epidemic some five years ago? Not that house only, but the whole village, and a great part of the country to the east of us, were depopulated by them. If you had ever seen Bona Ghat before these afflictions came you would have appreciated at once the frightful character of the changes they wrought." Monohur did not want to know more. There was a rush of contending feelings in his mind that almost un- settled his brain. The mother that had so loved him was dead, and the thoughts of her brought with them a burden of reproach. Was life worth living now ? He went off from the shop, and walked to and fro by the lovely banks of the Bhetna. " O, mother ! dearest mother ! if I ended my life here 2o8 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. by throwing myself into the stream would I meet with you in the shadowy land ? " The words had hardly passed out of his mouth when he seemed to feel again as if a sweet breath passed across his cheeks, and, looking steadfastly before him, he beheld once more the shadow of his mother gazing at him with sorrowful and pleading eye&. Monohur approached the apparition boldly as before, with a fixed and reverential look. But it retreated again before him, crossing its hands on its bosom and looking upwards to the sky. The pale moonlight revealed the figure most clearly to the son, and the next moment it was gone ! Monohur continued to gaze at the lovely light for some time, in the hope of seeing the shade again, but it did not return. " I shall not stay in this village to-night," muttered he at last, speaking to himself ; and he left it as fast as he had come to it. A Byragi lived in a hut at the foot of a banyan-tree on the outskirt of the village, and he re- solved to lodge with him for the night. The man was well-known, though rather more feared than loved, for he dealt with unorthodox arts ; but Monohur had been too long the disciple of Bissonath to be afraid of him. Great, however, was his surprise on seeing him perched on the revetement of a bridge which he had to go by. " What are you doing here, Byragi ? I was going to meet you where you live." " Ah, I am enjoying the moonlight here. What did you want with me ? " " A night's rest only," said Monohur, " for I do not know where else to seek for it." " Then come and sit here for a while, and we shall have a pull at the hookah together before we go home." HOME, AS MONOHUR FOUND IT. 209 But Monohur did not smoke. " I am weary, Byragi, for I have been on foot for a long time to-day, and I must go to sleep at once. You can come home when you like. May I not occupy your place till then ? " " Of course you may that is, if you are not afraid to sleep alone. Would you miss me if I did not come ? " "0, come by all means; but you will find me fast asleep after the smallest delay." Monohur proceeded towards the Byragi's hut at a rapid pace, but was not pleased to find a small crowd before it when he reached the spot. " What is the matter here ? " he asked. " O," said one of the throng, " the Byragi is dead." " Dead ! When did he die ? " " This afternoon, and the body is yet lying on the floor;" and while Monohur looked at the body his legs tottered visibly. Surely there was the very same man lying stark dead before him whom he thought he had met and conversed with a few minutes before on the revetement of the bridge ! He did not speak a word more with anyone, but ran off to the temple of Naggesur Mahadeva and fell prostrate before the deity, beseeching his protection. There was no one in the temple at this hour of the night; but he felt no fear on that account, for he was conscious of being in the presence of one who was fully able to protect. When the imagination is disturbed and reason staggered if not overthrown, how is it that nothing can restore calmness to the mind but faith ? Long, long did he lie prostrate on the ground, wrapt in speechless devotion. He saw no more apparitions float- ing before him, no shape nor shadow but the placid pillar p zio THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. of stone that represented the deity. At last he felt a flower fall on his body, as if thrown towards him, and he arose and picked it up. It was the very same flower he had seen at the top of the Lingam when he entered the temple, and he received it as a direct assurance from the god himself of the protection extended to him. The withered flower was carefully fastened by Monohur to the Tulsi bead-chain which encircled his throat ; and he went out sharply again from Bona Ghat, to overtake the Sunyasi in his wanderings. THE PARAMHANGSA. CHAPTER XXIX. THE PARAMHANGSA. DUKING the time that Monohur was escaping by forced marches from the Cuttack forests to Bona Ghat, the Sun- yasi was not idle, but was following almost the very same route though a little more circuitously, till he found that he had reached Satgaon, or Saptagram, a village in the district of Hooghly. " I confess I don't see what I can do now besides stay- ing here for the return of Monohur, who cannot possibly remain at home after all that has happened there since he left it/' said he to himself in a self-communing mood. " The country is yet in a disordered state. Why not tarry here then for him, since I have got a friend hard by whose character would be my best protection ? " The village of Satgaon was at one time the mercantile capital of Bengal, and is mentioned as such in the Purans, where it is also spoken of as a celebrated place of worship, the seven villages of which it was originally composed having been especially consecrated to the seven Rishis of the Shastras. From seven it came gradually to comprise as many as a hundred villages, but what remains of it at the present day are some twelve or thirteen huts only ; and its condition was barely a little better when the Sunyasi visited it. The celebrity of the place at the time was more directly derived rather from the residence in it of a p 2 212 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. Paramhangsa, a man of high character and great learning, whom Bissonath had met in his wanderings, and with whom he proposed now to remain till the return of Monohur. It was a July evening, and the Sunyasi was walking with a half- filled wallet slung over his shoulder, a chddur passed over his head to protect it from the weather which was by turns hot and rainy, a small chattd, or parasol of mat, kept in position by being tied to the wallet, and a staff of rather thick dimensions in his hand. He was evidently exhausted, and the accumulation of mud on his feet bore evidence to his having travelled a long distance that day. The beauties of an autumn sunset were yet in the sky ; but they had no charms for the wayfarer, for he was anxious to reach his destination before the setting in of night. " My son/' said he, addressing the first peasant he met with, " can you direct me to the residence of the great Paramhangsa who lives somewhere about this place?" "Are you a stranger, father, that you don't know where he lives, when even Rajahs and Zemindars are well aware of the road ? " " Not altogether a stranger, indeed," said the Sunyasi in reply ; ' ' but it is several years now since I was in this village before, and I don't think that the Paramhangsa had settled in it then." " Ah, that is too true," exclaimed the peasant, " for the holy father has come hither amongst us but a few years only. I am going towards his Tole this moment myself, and if you will come with me I shall be glad to show you the way." The Paramhangsa was a celebrated character at Satgaon, a man of really extensive acquirements and THE PARAMHANGSA. 213 spotless fame. He was an old man of splendid, though decrepit appearance, who had given up all that was best in him in the search after Truth. His wanderings in particular had been wide and varied, and had contributed not a little to the establishment of his reputation. The river-banks of India are sacred ground, and to follow the course of a river from its source to the sea and back again by the opposite shore to its source is called its Pradak- shina ; and this the good man had accomplished by several streams. His holiness had necessarily made a great name for him; though what had established him at Satgaon was rather a peculiar Mdhita he had exhibited, which is not uncommon among the recluses of the East. The Jaggatpore Zemindars had, several of them, died child- less, and this had created a great alarm in the family. " Is the zemindary to go down, decade by decade, by adoption ? Cannot the curse of sterility be removed from our women ? " They had consulted the Paramhangsa, and he had advised them to change their place of abode. " I shall find out a site for you where you will surely prosper " and proceeding to a retired spot some six miles to the west of Satgaon he had there burnt a lock of his hair and scattered the ashes on the ground. ' c Behold, I have purified this spot for you. Live here and multiply :" and they had built there a big palace to live in, and had multiplied and prospered ; for the ladies of the family had borne children in due time ever after, and the children were all healthy and robust. " Surely this man is a saint ! What should we do for him ? " asked the Zemindars. " Is he a saint or a god in disguise ? " inquired the women, with unaffected devotion. 2i 4 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. " Whatever he be we must not leave him uncared for in his age/' observed both the Zemindars and their wives ; and they offered to establish him at Satgaon in their immediate neighbourhood, to which the sage having assented the Tole was soon raised, at the front of which he was always to be seen, morning and evening, with a rosary in his hand and his eyes fixed reverentially on the sky. But a new saint, like a new doctor, has to make himself known to the public at large by some exploit or achieve- ment of even greater moment than such Mahita as the Paramhangsa had shown. The high encomiums and profuse bounty of the Jaggatpore Zemindars went a great way in securing for the good man the veneration of the mob'; but it was necessary that he should establish himself in the estimation of more competent judges by giving proof of his reading and wisdom ; and the oppor- tunity for doing so was very soon offered. Envying his good fortune another Sddhoo, or holy man, came to his place a short time after him, with the scarcely hidden intent of entangling him in a religious debate. He was received by the Paramhangsa with kindness and respect, but the latter was taken quite aback when the stranger proposed to hold a learned disputation with him. " A disputation with me ? Why, I am old and feckless, and rapidly hastening to my rest. What honour will you gain by vanquishing me ? " But the new-comer was not a man to be thrown off from his purpose so easily. " 0, I don't aspire to the distinction of overcoming you, my brother," said he. "It would be presumptuous in me to do so, for your fame fills the whole earth. I THE PARAMHANGSA. 215 have come hither simply to receive instruction from your lips." There was a pause now between the two Sadhoos, but not the least discomposure on either side. " Well/' said the Paramhangsa at last, " if you will have it so I have no option but to accede to your wish. Shape your questions then as you list, and I shall try to answer them as best I may." From the commencement of this prelude there was deep silence in the Tole, the pupils of the Paramhangsa waiting in breathless expectation for the debate. But it was too learned even for them to understand, for the questions asked by the new-comer were clothed in the rugged and obsolete Sanskrit of the primitive ages, by which he expected perhaps to surprise and intimidate his opponent. What was the wonder of the challenger then when the Paramhangsa, looking him steadfastly in the face, gave his answers slowly and deliberately in the ancient Chaldean dialect. The Sadhoo received the replies with fear and astonishment, nay, it is said that he became insensible, as if struck down by a spell. " Revive him, my children/' said the Paramhangsa to his pupils, and they sprinkled water on his face till he was able to sit up. "Well, brother, have I answered your propositions aright ? " " Be merciful, father ! " exclaimed the new-comer almost in fear. " You are infinitely my superior in every respect, both in holiness and learning ; and I beseech you to receive me among your disciples." After this the reputation of the Paramhangsa was in every mouth, and crowds of people came to him from great distances to salute him and receive his benedictions. 2i6 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. This was the man to whom the Sunyasi was conducted, and whom he met with at the threshold of his Tole counting his beads. "Well, brother! Is it me you seek? If so, you are welcome." "Yes/' said the Sunyasi, "it is certainly to you, master, that I have come, though you do not seem to recognise me." The Paramhangsa was gazing steadfastly at the face of his visitor, and the Sunyasi, appreciating his difficulty, took off the covering from his head. " Ah ! my old friend, the ardent companion of my travels among the Snowy Mountains, do I see you face to face again ? Excuse me that I was not able to recognise you at once, for I am getting infirm from age. I can never sufficiently acknowledge your kindness in having come out so far, and to such an out-of-the-way corner as this, to inquire after me." The Sunyasi bit his lip to hide his uneasiness. "Do not give me credit, master, where no credit is due. I have been wandering over a great part of the country on my own account, and have but accidentally come upon you here." " Ah ! wandering about yet, my brother ? Give glory to Him then who has given you health and strength to do so. Have you finished any other pradakshinds besides that of the Ganges in which we were engaged together?" " No, master ; I have been detained in my own country mainly for the last ten years ; but my business in it is now ended, and I may possibly start on fresh journeys if I can get fit companions to tramp with." "But you cannot be thinking of any long distant ex- peditions now, my brother, for you are getting stricken THE PARAMHANGSA. 217 in years, though, perhaps not quite so disabled yet as I have become. Why not settle down now at some place as a teacher of youth, as I have done ?" " Could I accept the responsibility conscientiously, master ? Tou are learned, I am not ; I have followed Karma and Bliakti all my life, but in Gydn, the highest phase of religion, my portion is but small." " Say not so, my brother. Stay with us, and we can gain knowledge from each other by mutual communica- tion. The process is not difficult, though it may seem so to begin with. If we do not get disheartened we are sure to advance. Will you remain here with us to this end ? " " I shall remain with you willingly, master, if you will allow me ; but I stay only to wait for a friend whom I expect here shortly, and my after-course will depend more on his wishes than on mine." This was agreed to, and Bissonath stayed with the Paramhangsa, whose Tole was crowded with students. The Sunyasi was a pious man in the main, though worldly- minded, and the questions that occur to every reasonable mind had often occurred to and distressed him. " What am I?" "Whence come?" "Whither bound?" " What is the actual relationship between soul and body, between material and immaterial natures ? " " What is the character of the Being who has made us ? " But he had received no light to assist the gropings of his mind, even though he had sought for it so sedulously, first, by becoming a Karta-Bhaja, and then by converting himself into a Ferazee. The light and opportunity were now offered him, and he was a devout listener to the instruc- tions that were imparted, and to the discussions that were carried on. India has a hundred races, a hundred dialects, 218 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. and, it may be said, a hundred religions ; but these religions are so connected with, and in fact so melt into, each other that they seem and are generally accepted as one. No one was better competent than the Paramhangsa to explain both their divergences and their agreement, and from the lips of none could such instruction come with greater gentleness and grace. The burden of his in- structions was briefly this : ' ' Whence are we ? From God. Whither bound ? To God. But God is a complete entity, which we are not. Soul and body, matter and spirit in unison cannot be complete, and necessarily cannot ap- proach that which is. The aim of life, therefore, is pro- gress simply, progress out of matter, for that union with the Universal Spirit, which finishes the scheme. " This, my brother, is the essential doctrine of all the schools of philosophy which are orthodox, and of the Upanishads on which those schools are based. The dif- ferences between them are mainly on minor points, and of no great moment in any case." THE SHASTRIC SCHEME. 219 CHAPTER XXX. THE SHASTKIC SCHEME. THE Sunyasi's knowledge of the Shastras was very in- different, but the Paramhangsa, sheathed in the armour of benevolence, was never weary of listening to his doubts and inquiries, nor spared any pains in giving whatever information and explanation he stood in need of. Bis- sonath, on his part, received every interpretation from the lips of the sage with the most respectful attention ; and it was a real comfort to the instructor to find that all the faculties of his auditor were, for the time at least, absorbed in the instruction imparted by him. " 0, master, I am very ignorant of these matters, and am afraid that you must begin even from the beginning, with the axioms and postulates of the Shastras, to enable me to understand their teachings aright/' "I would have been very much surprised indeed, my brother, if your inquiries had been otherwise shaped, for no one can understand any subject thoroughly without tracing it up from the commencement. You know of course that the Shastras are divided into two parts, the Sruti and the Smriti the orally-delivered and the written, the former coming direct from God, the latter derived from the mouths of sages and handed down to us by tradition. Of the former the chief divisions are : the Mantras, the Brdhmanas, and the Upanishads ; the first 220 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. being prayers and hymns of praise addressed to the heavenly powers; the second, prescriptions for conducting sacrifices and ceremonies ; and the third containing all the essential and secret doctrines which lie below the surface of inquiry. The essence of the first is Bhdkti, of the second Karma, of the third Gydn ; and it is on the last that all the schools of philosophy are based/' " But the schools of philosophy, master, though based on the Upanishads, are erring; are they not? They are often diametrically opposed to each other, or seem to be so." " As human institutions they are erring. They were founded by men like ourselves the Nyaya by Gautama, the Vaiseshika by Kanada, the Sankhya by Kapila, the Yoga by Patanjali, the Mimdnsa by Jaimani, and the Veddnta by Vyasa; but as vehicles of true instruction they are all of them eminently useful, and I have found personally that the Upanishads, read with their assistance, are more easily appreciated and understood." " How more easily understood when the schools have differed so widely in their beliefs ? " " The difference in belief between the schools is not, as I have said before, intrinsically so great as is usually supposed. The leading principles maintained by them, divested of their verbiage, are very nearly the same." " And the Smritis, do their teachings also accord with those of the Upanishads?" " I cannot say that they do not/' said the Paramhangsa, "though at first sight it may seem otherwise. The Smritis comprise the Veddngas, Dharma Shdstras, Purdns, and Itilidses. The religion of the mass is necessarily a religion of accretions, and apparently the Smritis seem to advocate different kinds of belief; but the principle at bottom is THE SHASTRIC SCHEME. 221 in every case the same, though exhibiting different phases of the Truth." ' ' 0, master ! has Truth, can Truth have different phases then, like other ordinary things ? " " Why not? It cannot but have different phases when seen from different stand-points and with different eyes. We see it through different media, and therefore in different lights. When we come to know Truth we shall find that it is one ; and those who know have certainly realised this." " What then is true in this, Mohasoy One God, or three gods, or thirty-three, or thirty-three millions, these being the different phases in which the subject has been considered ? " " The truth is One God ; its phases merely are multi- form. The Triad of the Veds are Agni, Surjya, and Indra ; but when you put the three names together you find them to make one term only God. Similarly, the total number of deities enumerated in the Veds is thirty- three, the explanation of which is that three and eleven are mystic numbers in the Sanskrit, and multiplied with each other, make up the aggregate returned." " But why was such multiplication necessary ? " " To suit the understanding of different minds. That which made one three, increased the number to thirty- three, and eventually to thirty-three millions, which simply denotes that, the Deity being interminable, His attributes are uncountable. The Triad of the Veds was changed for the Trimurti of the Purans when it became necessary to give to each attribute of the Deity a visible form. The functions of the Triad were also now dis- tributed ; but even that, my brother, did not make them distinct. One was called the Creator, another the Pre- 222 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. server, the third the Destroyer : but their attributes remained interchangeable ; each was still first in place and last ; their distinct representation simply singled out the three principal Goonas of the Self-Existent." " And the incarnations and minor deities ? " "Were compromises made to render the religion acceptable by all." " I understand your explanation then to mean that the different names of the Universal God, however numerous, are nothing more than the manifestations of His several attributes separately symbolised. If so, why were there strifes and contentions between the worshippers of those different names ? " " Ah, the strifes and jealousies are but proofs of human passions and frailties, not of antagonism among the attributes severally worshipped." "But are not the Purans themselves antagonistic to each other, and do they not teach that antagonism which you attribute to the passions and frailties of human nature only?" " Have I not said that the Purans were delivered by human authors ? Of the eighteen Purans, six namely, the Bruhma, Brahmanda, Bruhma Vaivartha, Markandaya, Bhavishya, and Vamana extol the glories of Bruhma ; six others the Vishnu, Bhagavat, Naradya, Garura, Padma, and Varaha glorify Vishnu mainly ; while the remaining six namely, the Saiva, Lainga, Skanda, Agni, Matsya, and Karma are especially devoted to the adora- tion of Mahadeva. But it must not be supposed that any set of them is exclusively appropriated for the exaltation of one particular deity. There is a constant interchange of courtesies and compliments between them. They were all based on one foundation, and, even though presenting THE SHASTRIC SCHEME. 223 multiform aspects outwardly, had really but one cause to advocate and uphold." " Well, besides the Veds and the Purans and the schools whose teachings were based on the Upanishads, have there not been other teachers also in the country who carried great authority with them even when explicitly disowning the authority of the Yeds ? " " Yes ; for, though they ignored the Veds, they did not disown the great and only Truth which the Veds were the first to make known. There was a war of races in the country, owing to the Kshetriyas, who at one time occupied the first place, having been afterwards forcibly ousted from it by the Brahmans. The Brahman schools of philosophy came thus to be called orthodox, while the Kshetriya schools were characterised as unorthodox by their de- tractors; but the doctrines enunciated by some of the latter, and by Buddhism in particular, were too pure to be rejected, too true to be denied." " You admit then the soundness of the Buddha faith?" " Who dares deny it ? No philosophy, not even that of the Vedanta, can boast of a sublimer or purer creed : the best phases of Vedantism and Buddhism march to- gether, while the Karma code of the latter is perhaps superior to any that has ever been enunciated. The main precepts of that code are divided into two broad divisions of ' prohibitions ' and ' injunctions/ The primary prohibitions are : ' Kill not,' ' steal not/ ' com- mit not adultery/ ' lie not/ ' drink not strong drink/ The primary injunctions are : ' Charity and benevolence/ f moral goodness/ ' patience/ ' fortitude/ ' meditation/ and ' knowledge/ Can any better injunctions or prohibitions be conceived ? " 224 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. *' I was told by the Llamas we met with at the foot of the Himalayas that some of the secondary injunctions and prohibitions also enjoin excellent lessons of humility, repentance, avoidance of luxury, and the like. Is it not a pity then that such a religion was wholly rooted out of the land ?" " It was not rooted out, my brother ; it was not possible to root it out altogether. Its best portions were drafted into the Brahman code by bits, the two faiths melting into each other to form the religion as it now exists." " But were there not interchanges of persecutions and hostilities between them ? I think it is so recorded in the accounts they both give of each other." " Yes, there were quarrels and fightings between them ; and these were continued for a good long period too. But they were finally concluded by concessions and adaptations ; and it was only a small section of the Bud- dhas who, having resisted all efforts at conciliation to the last, were actually rooted out." " What shape then did the conciliation you speak of, master, assume ? In what representation of the deity is Buddha, or Adi-Buddha, now to be traced ? " " In the character of Mahadeva. The name is that of a Brahman deity, but under that disguise the god of the Buddhas takes precedence in the triune co-equality of Brahmanism." " How so ? Is not Mahadeva generally represented as a free-liver, the associate of drunkards, and the celebrator of the Tantric orgies ? What has he in common with Buddha?" " Ah, my friend, the representation you refer to is that given of him by those who did not accept the idea of importing him into the Triad. But the more correct THE SHASTRIC SCHEME. 225 description given of him is that of an ascetic, as Buddha was, practising severe mortifications, and teaching them, as Buddha did." " These different descriptions are very conflicting, Mohasoy. Like Mahadeva, his wife, Parvati, also has two distinct phases of character, one a very amiable one, which represents her as the type of beauty and gentle- ness, under the names of Urna and Gauri; the other a wild and fierce one, as exhibited in the characters of Doorga, Kali, Bhairavi, and Chamoondi. I do not see what good end such contradictions were intended to secure." " Eeflect, and you will understand it, for it is by no means very difficult to understand. The world, as we find it, is not so full of amiability and goodness that it would have been content with the characters of Uma and Gauri only. There are stronger and wilder natures in it to break in, and to initiate these in religion is as needful as to initiate others. O, my brother, the stupendous whole which the Shastras represent is as perfect as human wisdom, based on divine teaching, could have made it. It was designed not only for this world, but for the worlds beyond it alike for Bhu, Bhur, and Swar the earth, intermediate space, and the heavens. How could it be of other character then than what it actually bears ? " " Then the real object in enjoining a divergent myth- ology, master, was, I understand you to assert, the bringing in of all sorts of recruits for religious enlist- ment, to leave them afterwards to grope out their way to truth in the best manner they might ? " " Exactly so, my brother. Mythology has a persuasive- ness that renders it of essential help to all natures alike 226 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. at the starting-point that is, for the commencement of inquiry and action. After that we have reason and reflection to lead us to the goal." " Which we could not possibly begin with ? " " No, certainly not. We see, hear, smell, taste, and feel long before we commence to think. Could we com- mence with thinking, to see, hear, and feel afterwards ? The tranquillising effect of a panoramic system, like that of the Purans, is indeed indispensably necessary for arousing the powers of reflection ; and the way in which the Shastras have worked it out is not only faultless, but absolutely marvellous." THE NE W ARRIVAL. 2 2 7 CHAPTER XXXI. THE NEW ARRIVAL. THE religious discourses were continuous and many, though we may not refer to all of them here lest we should be getting behindhand with our story. They were always impressive and edifying; and the Sunyasi began now for the first time to understand why he had not hitherto understood the drift of the Shastras aright. He yearned for more and more infoi-mation, as doubt after doubt was removed from his mind, and there was no subject almost that did not come thus to be scrutinised and lectured upon. " I fear, Mohasoy," observed the Sunyasi one morning, " I fear I am wearying you with my objections and inter- rogations ; but I want to learn, and you are able to teach, and that is my apology for troubling you." The teacher smiled. " Do I look as wearied, my friend, in answering you that you say you trouble me ? Believe me that nothing gives me such hearty pleasure as to afford to others what- ever instruction I may be able to impart. Should we not help each other with our knowledge ? How else is knowledge to be acquired ? " " Well, master, I would beg of you then to explain to me the duties of a Brahman, as enjoined by Achdr and Byabalidr, as distinct from the requirements of religion Q 2 228 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. and philosophy. I am a Brahman of the highest class by birth, but have led such a vagrant life from my youth that I have had little leisure to learn the duties required of me, and am really anxious now to make up for lost time." " The duties of a Brahman/' replied the Paramhangsa, " are to bathe daily, offer oblations of water to the gods, holy sages, and departed ancestors, feed the sacred fire with fuel, and read the Veds, Purans, and Itihases. I suppose you have not been able to practise the last duty in particular very assiduously, but of course you know the Qdyatri and repeat it : Tat Sdvitra varayam l>liaryo derasya dhimdhi, dhiyo yo vdh prachodayat ? '' " Yes, I repeat the prayer daily, both at sunrise and sunset, but beyond that my knowledge is very limited. I am certainly not well versed in the Veds, and I hardly know the Purans better." " If you know your Gayatri well you know everything, for that is the cardinal doctrine alike of the Yeds and the Purans. But you should repeat the prayer at the three Sandhyas of sunrise, noon, and sunset, not at two only, as you say you do ; for three, as I have explained before, is a mystic and sacred number, and imparts sacredness even to the Gayatri. Many repeat the prayer with a Japamdld, ten, twenty-eight, or a hundred and eight times ; but all have not time to do so, nor is it very im- peratively required. Remember your Maker thrice daily and you do so thirty-three times and thirty-three mil- lion times, for three, thirty-three, and thirty-three mil- lions are numbers reciprocally representable." " Is there anything besides the repetition of the Gayatri that is required of us with equal emphasis ? " " Yes, abstinence abstinence from pride, sensuality, THE NE W ARRIVAL. 2 2 9 falsehood, and impurity of all kinds. Bat this is the requirement rather of philosophy and religion, than of Achar and Byabahar, and as such is more imperative even than the other duties I have alluded to." " 0, master ! If abstinence be so essential a qualifica- tion of Brahmanhood, who is a Brahman in reality ? " " Who, indeed ! We are Brahmans by birth ; we ob- serve the purificatory rites of Upanaydna, Karndbedlia, and the rest ; but the sacrifice of the heart, which is so particularly required of us, how few are able or assiduous to render ? The Upanayana we accept by investiture with a sacred thread, and we display the thread over our shoulders and hang it out diagonally across our bodies. The Brahman wears a cotton thread, the Kshetriya one made of hemp, the Vaisya one made of wool. But the thread is in every case but a token only of regeneration ; the regeneration itself must be of the mind/' " But are there not sacrifices particularly enjoined whereby to make up for our shortcomings in this as in other respects ? " " Of course there are. But the real sacrifice required is still that of the heart, for which life is the only ade- quate substitute, on the principle that, having been un- able to train the heart aright, we surrender to our Maker the existence that was given to us in trust." ( ' How so, Mohasoy ? Are not sacrifices of animals expressly enjoined by the Shastras, and enumerated ? " " Yes, but only as partial substitutes at best. Origin- ally life-sacrifices were human only, and the text says 'emphatically 'Since I cannot purify my heart, God, suffer me to surrender my life to you.' The Yeds explain in addition that the sacrifice of the horse was substituted for that of man, of the buffalo for that of the 2 30 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. horse, of the sheep for that of the buffalo, and of the goat for that of the sheep only because the personal sacrifice of the man himself would close the door of repentance and salvation." " Then what is the virtue of a sacrifice as it is now made ? To what extent does it benefit us ? " " The animal sacrificed is, by the force of the Mantras recited, identified with the siuner who offers him ; and this self-sacrifice by prosy is held to be a sufficient expiation for the sins already committed by him. The prayer chanted over the sacrifice says expressly ' What- ever sins I have committed, sleeping, or waking, knowing or unknowing, thou art offered to expiate for it.' But it does not purify the heart, nor put a stop to the further commission of sins/' " It is a gain, however, so far as it goes, for it is de- sirable, of course, to be cleansed of the past that is, if we are certified that we are really cleansed by the process/' " It is so stated in the Shastras, and must be so. But the course yet more positively enjoined is the sacrifice of the heart, for sanctification only can make the cure com- plete. He is a Brahman who knows Bruhmu ; and to know him it is not enough to get cleansed of the past, but to remain cleansed for ever." "That is a state which must be especially hard to attain ? " " It has to be attained though, for there is no by-path in morals, as some authorities have taken so much pains to inculcate. The straight path is not merely the best but also the only path to go by." " Where to, master ? What is the object of the purity you so forcibly enjoin ? If we must be thoroughly sancti- fied, wherefore must we be so ? " THE NE W ARRIVAL. 2 3 1 " That the highest and final end, the ultimate purpose for which we were created, might be accomplished. A clear conception of that end, and of the way to it, is possible only to the pure." " Then what is that end or purpose, so far as the great master-minds of the world have yet been able to make out ? " " Ah, different thinkers have given very different names to it, my brother, just as different sages have given different names, even to the Deity. Some have called the purpose ' thought ;' others, ' life/ ' real life ;' others, ' happiness ;' others, ' the knowledge of the unknowable ;' others, ' ab- sorption into the highest.' I would simply name it ' emancipation ' with the Buddhas, and hold emancipation and absorption to be the same." " And this emancipation you hold to be attainable by purity alone ? " " 'By purity and knowledge together, brother; it can have no other base." " Ah, master, the doctrine you lay down is certainly beautiful, very beautiful indeed ! But if purity be so essential to the attainment of the end, who will, who can be held worthy of it ? " " The whole human race, I hope," answered the Param- hangsa, with a smile of ineffable gratification. " If not in this life, in the next, or in the next after that, or later yet, and later still. The point to reach cannot be shortened to suit the convenience of anyone. We have to run up to it, and must do so. But I sincerely believe that as many opportunities will be given to us to try the race as we may possibly require, since the Greatest and Holiest could not possibly have made us in vain." At this moment a third person glided softly and un- 232 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. expectedly into the hut, and, approaching the speakers, stood motionless before them like a ghost. " 0, Monohur ! " exclaimed the Sunyasi, perceiving who the intruder was, " there is trouble in your eye, and your body has wasted down to a skeleton. Sad, very sad, must have been your reception at home to bring you down to this condition. But you need not speak of it to me. I did not very strongly dissuade you from going, for I had not the heart to do so ; but I knew well all that you have learnt since. Sit down and listen to the in- structions of this blessed man, and they will strengthen your heart and qualify it for its further struggles with life/' The answer of Monohur was a low heart-broken wail, and he sat down with an effort, as if in pain. The wild- ness and vivacity of his youth were gone, and his face was furrowed and wrinkled over with care. " Is this any relation of yours ? " asked the Param- hangsa of Bissonath, turning his eyes towards Monohur. " My pupil and my friend." " He seems sadly distressed. What is it that weighs so heavily on him ? " " The loss of a most loving mother ; and his grief is all the greater that he was not at her side when she died. He had fled away from her at my instigation, and was not able to see her afterwards." " That is a great grief indeed," said the sage, " a grief for which there is no antidote but Gyan and Bhakti. You can see her again in the future, my son, if you deserve to do so." " I have seen her in the present, father, though not in the flesh." The Sunyasi looked at his friend steadfastly as if he THE NEW ARRIVAL. 233 doubted his sanity, while the Paramhangsa kindly asked him to open his mind freely to him, and to tell him what he had seen : " For it may be that I shall be able, under Providence, to apply the fitting solace to your wounds/' The kindness of the old man could not be resisted, and both he and the Sunyasi heard with surprise the revela- tions that were made. " Can such things be, or are they mere vagaries of a diseased brain ? " asked the Sunyasi, addressing the Paramhangsa. "It is quite possible for such things to be, and I believe I understand the meaning of the sights which this youth has witnessed. As there was an epidemic prevail- ing- in the land at the time of the lady's death, and as her son was not present on the spot, the funeral rites of the deceased were perhaps not very carefully performed, and the preta, or departed spirit, cannot obtain gati, or pro- gress onwards, till those rites have been completed. The greatest service that you can now render to your deceased parent, therefore, my son, is to proceed straight to Gaya and perform the several rites there afresh, which will emancipate her spirit from the influence of this world, and speed it on to the intermediate stages of bliss, if not to ultimate redemption." " 0, Babajee ! my friend, rny guardian ! " exclaimed Monohur, the tears gathering in his eyes, " do you hear what the great teacher enjoins ? " " I do/' said the Sunyasi, " and am quite ready to accompany you." And the very next day they left the Tole with the rising sun, and took the road to Gaya. 2 3 4 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. CHAPTER XXXII. THE first place where our travellers halted, after leaving Satgaon, was Ghol Ghat, the southern extremity of Hooghly, where the Portuguese established themselves after the decay of Satgaon as a commercial port. The point indicates an eddy in the Hooghly river of much force and magnitude, close against which on the bank stood at one time a fortress built by Sampraya, the Portuguese General, the vestiges of which are still visible in the bed of the stream. It was here that Monohur and the Sunyasi rested to decide on the route to be followed by them from that point. " The floods have been heavy here, Monohur/' re- marked the Sunyasi, " and a considerable portion of the Great Trunk Road has, I fear, been cut up. It will not be practicable, therefore, for us to follow up that line. We had better go hence to Burdwan, and from that place via Deogurh to Gaya." " I have no wish in the matter, but yours, Babajee ; you understand these things so much better than I do/' They accordingly started again the following day, making straight up for Burdwan, the mind of Monohur depressed by a despondency which he could not shake off ; and, though the Sunyasi was untiring in his efforts to divert him, and even recapitulated for his edification THE JAL RAjAH OF BURDWAN. 235 many of the learned discourses and disputations he had listened to at Satgaon, he was not very successful in re- animating him till the town of Burdwan was reached. " You must not be angry with me, Monohur, but we are approaching a large and busy city, and you should not look so strange here as you do now, for people are sure to take note of it and misunderstand us." " Ah, ain I really looking very strange, Babajee ? How should I look then ? Why don't you instruct me ? " " Resume as much of your former spirits, my son, as you can. We are bound on a pilgrimage ; a sad one to be sure, but still we must bear up like other pilgrims, to avoid misconstruction/' There was no answer to this from Monohur but a sigh, and his pale face continued yet to bear its settled expres- sion of deep melancholy and pain. The city of Burdwan was reached in this state, just at the time when it may be said to have been in a furor, on account of a cele- brated Tichborne case which convulsed Bengal in 1838; and the Sunyasi was now able to apply his hoisting-up lever more successfully than before. " What is the excitement here for ? " asked Monohur of his companion. " People appear everywhere to be divided into clamorous gatherings, eagerly discussing some important matter with violent gesticulations." " 0, a great trial is coming on here to-morrow or the day after, which we might wait to see decided without detriment to our particular business. It cannot detain us beyond a few short days, and I really think you would like to know all about it, for it is a matter of much im- portance to Zemindars generally." Monohur wished to resist the temptation thus adroitly thrown out to him, but was unable to do so ; for though 2 3 6 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. he was terribly out of sorts yet, the Sunyasi had suc- ceeded in exciting his curiosity. " What is the case about, Babajee ? " " Why, a certain person pretends that he is the verit- able Rajah of Burdwan, while another, who holds the estates at present, denies his pretension in toto. The whole story is so marvellous that it is worth staying here to ascertain how the contest may be authoritatively determined." " I would have preferred to push on without stopping," said Monohur. " But, if it does not delay us much to hear out the case on the spot, I would certainly not think of opposing your wishes in the matter. What are the heads of the story, Babajee ? Can you tell ? " " 0, the story is this : The Burdwan family, you know, is a very old one, much older than your own. It was founded by one Aboo Rai, who pretended to be a Kshe- triya by caste, though the people who kuew him best preferred to recognise him as a Chuttree only. This man held a petty office in Burdwan, under the fouzddr of the day, some two hundred years ago, which enabled his son, Baboo Rai, to acquire three estates in the dis- trict, including Pergunnah Burdwan. The times were unsettled, and a subsequent successor, whose character was nearly akin to that of a dacoit, was able to wrest from his neighbours, the Rajahs of Chunderkona and Ghattal, the estates which had belonged to them ; and, the example being followed by other successors, several other estates, such as Tarkessur, Mundulghat, etc., were acquired, the final result being that the Burdwan Raj became the largest zemindary in Bengal. It became so unwieldy, in fact, that it began afterwards to be mis- managed, which led to portions of it being lost by sales, THE jAL RAjAH OF B URD WAN. 237 such, namely, as were acquired by the houses of Singore, Bhastara, Jonai, and Telinipara. To prevent further disruption, Kajah Tej Chunder introduced the putnee system, by which the lands were subdivided and given away in perpetual leases, which secured to the original Zemindar a fixed profit without the risk of any loss at all." " This is a wearisome account, Babajee, and not by any means very instructive to me." " Ah, I am coming very quickly, my son, to the strange portion of the story, which I am sure you will listen to with interest. The Eajah Tej Chunder, that I was speaking of, who took so much pains to keep the zemin- dary intact, had no son to succeed him. His only son, Pratapa Chunder, died in his life-time, upon which he adopted a son, named Mahatab Chand, the son of one Paran Baboo, a relative. Accordingly, on Tej Chunder's death, the zemindary was assumed by Mahatab Chand as legal heir of the deceased, and he has continued in possession of it to the present time. The pretence of the claimant, who has now come forward, is that he is the identical Pratapa Chunder, the son of Tej Chunder, who was reported to have died." ' ' How is that possible, Babajee ? I mean how could there be any doubt in the matter of Pratapa Chunder' s death ? Surely the death of the heir of such an estate could not but have been known to all Burdwan at the time it occurred." "And so it was; but the story now urged by the claimant is most curious on that very point, and not very improbable either, all things considered. He asserts that, as Paran Baboo possessed the ear of his father, the machinations of the former so prejudiced the latter 238 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. against him that his life was made very unpleasant to him, and that some attempts having also been made by Paran Baboo to carry him off by poison, he was com- pelled to keep as much aloof from Burdwan as he could. He accordingly passed much of his time in Calcutta, and at Chinsurab, where, falling into bad company, he led a life of riot and dissipation, abandoning religion and the austerities of caste, and finally crowned the catalogue of his iniquities by the commission of a particularly heinous crime." "Well?" " Subsequently the young man repented, and so sin- cerely that society had no charms for him, and he lived almost alone by himself, brooding over his follies and crimes. At this stage it was suggested to him that he might expiate his wickedness by atoning for it in such manner as the Shastras prescribe ; and, on consulting the oracles of Hinduism, an incognito pilgrimage for fourteen years was recommended to him, which he decided on per- forming. '' ' You must be mad to think of adopting such a sug- gestion/ observed several of his former companions, with a view to dissuade him from leaving them. " ' I would be mad indeed/ was his reply, ' if I did not adopt it. There is nothing on the earth that I care to live for now if I may not get cleansed of my crimes.' " He was afraid, however, lest his father should not assent to such a prolonged absence from home as the pilgrimage involved, and also that Paran Baboo might attempt to take his life if able to follow him in his flight ; and he resolved therefore to carry out his intent without 'taking anyone into his confidence, in such manner as would avert suspicion, and, at the same time, shield him THE jAL RAjAH OF BURDWAN. 239 from the antipathy of his enemy. To this end he feigned a mortal sickness, was conveyed to Ambika Culna, the family burning-ghat, and, affecting to be dying, had himself placed on the verge of the Hooghly, when he conjured the people about him to withdraw, that he might offer up his soul to his Maker by unreservedly confessing all his iniquities. He had two friends, he says, to help him at this strait, one of whom got a boat for him, which was kept waiting in the middle of the stream, while the other gave him notice of the arrangement. He then threw himself into the river, and, being a bold swimmer, dived across to the boat, which instantly set out for Dacca." "Ah, he must have been a daring youth indeed if he was really able to make such an escape as that. Well, what followed ? " " From Dacca Pratapa Chunder went to wash himself at Barni, the confluence of the Gunga and the Brahma- pootra where we have bathed; and, having ascertained that there was no pursuit after him, he continued his pilgrimage to many distant shrines in different directions, visiting even the Punjab and Cashmere." " Well ? " "Having finally completed the course of travelling dictated by his remorse, Pratapa Chunder returned to Burdwan after the lapse of some twenty years, but only to find that his father was dead, and that the Raj had been assumed by the son of Paran Baboo ; and he is fighting out stoutly now to recover his own/' " His story is a very circumstantial one, and ought to be supported by very circumstantial evidence. If he escaped from Culna by diving into the river, how came it to be believed at the time that he had died ? " " He explains it by stating that, as soon as Paran 24 o THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. Baboo came to know of his escape, he procured a dead body and had it burnt on the river-side with great cere- mony as that of the Rajah's son, which deceived Tej Chunder and all others, and cut off the ground under Pratapa." " There must have been many witnesses of the crema- tion, and all of them could not have been Paran Baboo's people. Did nobody get an inkling of the deception practised by Paran ? " " There was a crowd of witnesses of course, but they either had no means of knowing that it was another body that was being burnt, or were persons interested in upholding the deception that was practised." " Do you believe the claimant's story yourself, Babajee?" "I am rather disposed to do so, but should like to hear all that they may have to urge in Court on either side. The best part of the evidence ought to be forth- coming at the trial/' They were both present at the trial, but were rather disappointed at the proofs which were offered, which consisted simply of deliberate swearing on one side, opposed by equally deliberate swearing on the other. On this evidence the Court held that the claim was not substantiated, and the claimant was punished for false personation. " How false, when no attempt has been made to es- tablish that he is other than what he professes to be ? " observed the Sunyasi, turning towards Monohur, in a dissatisfied tone. " His identity with one Kristo Lall Brahmacharee was repeatedly asserted. Why was it not proved" by the testimony of such people as may happen to know the Brahmacharee best ? " THE jAL RAjAH OF B URD WAN. 2 4 1 "Because no one was willing perhaps to come and peach upon a poor fellow already pushed to the verge of the precipice on which he stood." " No, no ; it is not that at all," said the Sunyasi, looking very wise. " There has been a great failure of justice here, my son, and I am afraid it is the long purse of the occupant Bajah that has given him the victory." This set Monohur a thinking on the subject again, the result of which was the germination of new fears. " I am afraid, Babajee, that there is in this case an unfortunate resemblance to mine," said he at last. " Here have I been wandering hither and thither un- known to the world, like Pratapa, and who knows but that somebody else may not have meanwhile appropriated my estates to himself ? " " Ah, that is not possible as regards yourself, my son. Your estates are in very safe keeping namely, in that of my brother, the priest of Naggesur Mahadeva, at Bona Ghat." 242 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. CHAPTER XXXIII. BYJANATH, OR DEOGUEH. " LET us proceed quickly now to Gaya," said Monohur ; " we have lost much time, somewhat unprofitably I think, at this place." The Sunyasi did not contradict his companion, nor look offended. " I have just received intelligence," said he, " that the road through Deogurh. is now practicable, and we need stop nowhere on it till we come to that place, which is about half-way from this to Gaya." " "Will it be necessary to stay for any time at Deogurh itself?" " No, certainly not. The spot is a pretty one, one of the prettiest in all Bengal ; but there is nothing in it that need detain us beyond a single night." Deogurh, or Byjanath, is situated in the extreme north- west corner of the district of Beerbhoom, and is mainly remarkable for a group of handsome temples and a small pellucid lake, which are visited by Hindu pilgrims from all parts of India, and especially from Rajpootana and the countries adjacent to it. The resort of pilgrims to it from Lower Bengal is also great, chiefly because the site lies almost on the direct road from Calcutta to Benares ; but this road was at times so infested with robbers, and the annoyance caused to the pilgrims thereby was so BYJANAlH, OR DEOGURH. 243 great, that the Government had to interfere to make it passable. This led to the appointment of Ghdtwdls, or guardians of the passes, who were no other than the robbers themselves, made merry on finding that, instead of being punished for their misbehaviour, they were endowed with gifts of rent-free land, for the performance of a duty which only meant the compounding of violence by the levy of a fixed black-mail. The exaction, how- ever, was never complained of by the pilgrims, who were delighted with the safety it ensured ; and Monohur and the Sunyasi proceeded on their journey without ex- periencing any trouble or inconvenience, and more easily, in fact, than the latter had expected. "The road is very solitary, Babajee, but the rocky scenery around us is quite charming to look at." " Yes, it is an easy and agreeable enough road now/' said the Sunyasi ; " but I know of times when it was otherwise, when travellers shivered at the sight of those very rocks which appear to be so pleasing to you/' " Ah, I have heard that these barren passes used to be guarded by monsters in the past, though there is nothing here to frighten us at present, except yon crouching toll- gatherer, who is waiting there, I suppose, for the fee." The Sunyasi looked towards the figure to which his attention was drawn. " That is the Ghatwal's man to be sure," said he, " and, if you remove the covering from his head, you will find in him the identical monster who illustrated the stories of old. But the fiends have no longer as much liberty as they had before, and, this pittance paid, we have nothing more to fear from them, though there is no doubt that they would have crushed us against yon jagged stones before R 2 244 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. allowing us to pass by them so easily, if they could have had their own way yet." As he spoke these words he dropped the usual pass- rate into the hands of the Pahariah, who scarcely moved from his post to receive the money. Monohur had a good steadfast look at the man, and was not indisposed to admire his well-knit frame, but his attention was sharply drawn away from him in another direction. "We see something before us now at a distance, Babajee, don't we? Something like buildings with spiry summits mingling with the skies ? " " Your eyes are younger, my son, and see further than mine. But I think I perceive now what you refer to. They are the cluster of temples which have made their site so famous." " Yes, the temples indeed ! " exclaimed Monohur ; " and they could not look finer than they do now. I quite enjoy the sight from this distance, Babajee. They all seem to be very handsome edifices, but the great temple in the middle looks by far the best." The temples at Deogurh are twenty-two in number, all surrounded by a wall inclosing an extensive court-yard paved with reddish stones. The great temple, which had particularly arrested Monohur's attention, has the repu- tation of having been built by one Poorun Mul, a Eajah of Gidbaur, who also established a meld, yet held at the place at the time of the Holi festival, which lasts for eight days. " I thought you had got tired with everything, Mono- hur," observed the Sunyasi, who had scarcely yet forgot- ten his companion's condemnation of their short stay at Burdwan, " and am glad indeed to find that you are pleased with the sight now before you." BYJANATH, OR DEOGURH. 245 " O, father, I arn still very anxious to push on to Gaya quickly, but cannot help regarding our arrival here at this moment as somewhat of a coincidence. The place is a peculiarly sweet one, and very well adapted, I think, for the rest we absolutely require to recover from our weariness. To look at yon buildings illu- minated by the afternoon sunlight is in itself a reviving sight to me." " Yes, a night's rest here, Monohur, is certainly necessary for us ; nor will it delay our journey in the least. But we must leave the place to-morrow at dawn, so you had better make the best of the daylight yet remaining by inspecting everything that has to be seen." Baidanath is a name of Mahadeva, and the place is so called after him ; but the local tradition in regard to the name which Monohur learnt was different. He had scarcely entered the stone porch, which leads to the temple-yard, when he was met by a priest with silver locks, who, pleased with his frank, wondering countenance, offered to show him over the place. " Whence come you, my son ? And whither are you going ? " " 0, father, we come from Satgaon, rid Burdwan, and are going to Gaya." " Your stay here then must be of the briefest, I fancy, for people bound to Gaya have mostly a painful duty to discharge, and can scarcely wish to rest anywhere on the journey." " That is exactly our case, Mohasoy, and we leave this place early to-morrow." " Then come along with me now, my son. There is enough of the day yet to walk over the sacred precincts. 246 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. I divined your errand here at once, and have come forward to help you." The face of Monohur was lighted with a transient gleam of joy, and, accepting the offer of the old man with thankfulness, he followed his footsteps with alacrity, carefully criticising the beauty of each edifice to which his attention was drawn. All the temples were found to be more or less old, but they were very massively built, and had quite a holy look ; and several of them had large stone figures cut on them, which were particularly striking. The terrace on which the temples stood was surrounded by ponderous moss- grown balustrades on three sides, and at each angle of it was a broad flight of steps leading down to a second terrace with sloping green banks that melted into the turf on the lawn. Something more than an hour was spent in walking over the entire area, and, though every temple was visited and minutely looked into, Monohur was yet sorry when it grew dark. " Is there no story, father, connected with the erection of these edifices, or the establishment of the shrine ? " asked he now of the priest. " By whom was the site chosen ? By whom built upon ? " " Ah, the story ! Every pilgrim takes the greatest interest in that, and is eager to hear it retold, though it is nothing but a mere story after all. I cannot vouch for the truth of it, my son ; nay, I may say that I take it for a tale only. But I shall tell it to you willingly since you so earnestly wish to hear it." " Yes, father, I do ; and I shall listen to your narrative with great interest." " It is this then, my son " They say that there was once a rich Goalah in this BYJANATH, OR DEOGURH. 247 place, named Byjoo, who had a supreme contempt for the Brahman character, which, he held, was a mere compound of idleness, profligacy, and falsehood. He made a point therefore to insult and maltreat the class. " ' Art thou mad, Byjoo, that thou darest to rise up against us ? ' remonstrated the men who were thus per- secuted by him. ' Knowest thou not that he that ill-uses a Brahman is no better than an infidel ? ' " ' I know more than that, surely/ replied Byjoo. ' I know that ye are Brahmans in nothing but in name ; that ye are bloodthirsty robbers and thieves, the seducers of youth and innocence, impostors and hypocrites ; and shall I not do the duty I owe to my Maker by driving ye out of this place ? ' " ' monster of ingratitude, what impiety art thou speaking ? Are we not God's vicegerents on the earth, and shall a low-born Goalah abuse us with impunity ? ' "'What, ye foul-mouthed villains! dare ye speak of yourselves and the Deity in the same breath, and shall I not sweep ye out of the country with the besom and the broom ? ' t: And he actually did so persecute them that they had no safety except in flight. They did not retire, however, without attempting to raise the people against him. " ' Will ye acknowledge such an infidel as your chief? ' asked they of the Goalahs. " But their appeal elicited no such response as they had wished to evoke. " ' Yes,' answered the Goalahs. ' He is as worthy a chief as any we could wish for. It is not for us to judge between you and him.' "A short time after, a number of Byjoo's cows having strayed into the jungle, Byjoo was obliged to 2 4 8 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. go out in search of them. It was a sultry, drowsy evening, and he went with a rod upon his shoulder to drive the cows home. He had scarcely entered the outskirts of the jungle, however, when he was startled to see a stranger approaching him a white-coloured being, dressed exactly as Mahadeva is exhibited, and having all the emblems of that deity about him. " ' Whither bound, Byjoo ? ' asked this individual of the GoaUh. " ' To search for my cows/ l "O, I shall help you to find them. Stay here with me, and they will come to you;' and the words had scarcely passed forth than the cows began to come in from every direction. " ' Who are you, lord ? ' asked the Goalah of the appearance in dismay. " ' Don't you recognise me by my habit, Byjoo ? I am Mahadeva, whom the Brahmans you despise affect to adore/ " ' Ah, have I done wrong then in persecuting and punishing them ? 0, give me time, lord, to repent if I have sinned against you ! ' "'No, Byjoo, no; thou hast not sinned against me. Be not afeard, for I am neither rigorous nor revengeful, except towards those who practise iniquity. Far from being offended, I have been much pleased with thy treatment of my Sabaits, for they are really as despicable in character as you take them to be, and they bring dis- credit on my name. Thrash them out of the country therefore, Byjoo, and get me a new set, and I shall exalt thy name higher than all thy wealth may/ " Byjoo did as he was told. The Sabaits of the god were ignominiously expelled from the country and a new BYJANATH, OR DEOGURH. 249 set brought in; and from that day Byjoo had the august addition of ' Nath ' or ' Lord ' attached to his name." " I suppose the place rose into note under the regime thus introduced ? " " Yes, the fame of the story went forth far and wide, and merchants, and rajahs, and priests vied with each other in establishing the sanctity of a site where Maha- deva had personally appeared, and in beautifying it with the temples you have seen." "Are they all dedicated to the worship of Mahadeva then ? " 11 All, with the exception of the last three we went to, which are dedicated to Tripoora Soondari, the wife of the deity." ' Monohur had a good sound sleep that night at Byja- nath, but it was nevertheless full of dreams. He saw the shade of Byjoo again and again ; he saw his cows also ; but the all-engrossing vision of the night was that of Mahadeva, who appeared to be smiling as propitiously on the sleeper as he had done on Byjoo in the tale. It was with great alacrity therefore that Monohur got up next morning on being summoned by the Sunyasi to resume their journey. 250 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. CHAPTER XXXIV. AT GAYA. A PILGRIM to Gaya sets out for the purpose of freeing his ancestors from purgatory, and for procuring their admis- sion into heaven, and before starting from home has to shave his head and face and make presents to the Brahmans. This Monohur had not done, for the idea of starting for Gaya did not originate at Bona Ghat but at Satgaon, which was not his native village; but, as Byjanath was a sacred place, the Sunyasi and the temple priests were quite in accord in recommending the omission being now rectified. " What am I to do then ? What is the course to pursue ? " " Shave yourself within the sacred inclosure here, my son, give what presents you choose to the Brahmans and the poor, and call upon the souls of your ancestors, and especially on the soul of your mother, to accompany you on your journey/' Monohur did as he was directed, the last act with streaming eyes; and he was fervently blessed by the silver-headed priest who had conducted him over the temple grounds, and was assured that the preliminaries had all been carefully gone through. " You have sad memories to disturb you, my son," said the old man with much tenderness, after having observed AT GAYA. 251 his grief; "but the sense of pain that weighs you down so heavily at present will, I am sure, be much allayed when your mission at Gaya is over. Do you know any- one there to go to ? If not, I shall give you a note to an old Tole mate of mine, named Lakshmi Narayan Pundit, who will be glad to see that you are not inconvenienced there in any way, nor imposed upon." This was a desirable arrangement, for the Grayawal Brahmans have at all times retained a name for unfairness and deceit; and Monohur thankfully received the billet that was given to him. " Is there anything more to do here or on the road, Mohasoy ? " " No, my son. You have only to transport yourself now, as quickly as you may, to the abode of my friend." The city of Graya stands on the Phalgoo, some sixty miles to the south- west of Patna. The site is picturesque and hilly, but was not easily accessible till the recent opening of the railway to it. Our pilgrims had a hard time of it in their day ; but they were accustomed to all sorts of privations, and it boots not to describe how the place was eventually reached by them. The name of Pundit Lakshmi Narayan was one of great celebrity there, and no difficulty was experienced in finding him out. He was an old man himself, but still very attentive to strangers ; and he received Monohur and the Sunyasi with great pleasure and cordiality, and made all the arrangements necessary for accommodating them com- fortably, and for carrying them through their course of devotions. " There is one thing that troubles me," said he, " namely this, that I am too imbecile to help you through your work personally. But I shall find a good Gayawal 2 5 2 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. to attend on you, and you may depend on his directions as safely as on mine.'" The Gayawal selected came shortly after, and he certainly seemed to be an honest man as honest as a Gayawal Brahman can well be. " I am at your service, my son/' said he to Monohur. " But you have first to decide how many Tirthas you will visit ; for some visit one only, others two, others thirty-eight, and others again all the forty-five that exist." " Well, since I am here I shall visit the -whole of them," said Monohur; " but I would first of all perform my mother's shrdd wherever it has to be made." " You must do that on the banks of the Phalgoo," replied the Gayawal, " and then go on visiting the several Tirthas in regular succession, depositing at each of them a pinda, or ball of rice, for the acceptance of your parent, while I shall recite the usual prayers over the offerings on your behalf/' " Should I not repeat the words after you ? " " Yes, if you can do so with celerity ; otherwise it will be enough for you to repeat the leading words while 1 get on with the rest ; and this is the course that is most usually followed." They began their devotions by repairing to the banks of the Phalgoo, which are held to be particularly holy for a distance of about half a mile, within which the pinda for redemption has to be offered. The shrdd is performed on a piece of ground especially set apart for the purpose, in which a small bedi, or altar, is marked out. On the bedi are laid thin stalks of Tcusa grass, while hard by are arranged small vessels, or khooris, of rice or barley, til, honey, and chandan. The pinda is a ball of rice or AT GAYA. 253 barley, and the person offering it has to place it on the bedi in the manner indicated to him by the priest, and then to scatter over it whatever else (gold, clothing, betel-leaf, areca-nut, etc.) which he may wish to offer. Water is then either gently poured over, or sprinkled on it, and with joined hands the performer of the rite be- seeches the spirit of the ancestor to whom the offering is made to come and accept of it. The pindas offered by Monohur were formed of rice and milk, and were many in number namely, one for each of his parents, two for his two grandfathers, two for his two grandmothers, with others for uncles, aunts, and other near relatives. They were offered one after another, the bedi being previously sprinkled over withTulsi leaves and the kusa grass, while kusa grass knots were twisted round a finger of each hand to purify the hands for the performance of the ceremony. " It was here that Ram Chandra performed the slirdd of his father Dasaratha, by offering to him a pinda of sand," said the Gayawal to Monohur, " and with a heart equally devoted do thou offer, O my son ! the first pinda to your mother." Monohur did as he was told, almost trembling with emotion, but without omitting any of the forms required to be observed. " Now invoke the spirit of your mother and beseech her to accept of your offering/' He did so with a heart bursting with love and devo- tion, and looking upwards towards the sky saw, through the tears that dimmed his eyesight, the shade of his mother looking exceedingly beautiful and compassionate, but habited in such shining white as almost bewildered his brain. 254 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. Monohur uttered a cry of anguish. " 0, mother, dearest mother ! take me with you now and for ever, and I shall never leave your side again ! " " Good son of a good mother/' said the priest, " you must not distress yourself in that manner now, for you have plenty of work yet to get through. Your mother cannot take you with her, for she is a spirit come hither from the spirit-land, whither you may not follow her at present. But she will watch over you ever, since you have performed her gati and opened the door of salvation to her." The other pindas were now successively laid on the bedi, and the same formula was gone through over each, though more hurriedly than in the first case, owing to Monohur's mind being yet much agitated and disturbed. " We may stop here now, I think ? " asked the Sunyasi in a suggestive way, as soon as the last rice-ball had been thus disposed of. "Yes, we may. Your young companion is too much affected already to be able to do aught more to-day." The observances were renewed next morning by the party proceeding to Pretsild, or the Ghost Hill, at a distance of about seven miles from the city, where a temple stands on the hill, which is reached by four hundred rocky steps. " Have we to get up by these slippery ascents ? " " Yes, to offer the pinda at the temple itself, and then you get down again and bathe in the Brahmakoond yonder, and perform your devotions at the shrine of Parvati." It was with some difficulty that Monohur was able to comply; but this was only the first of his troubles, and there were a multitude of them yet to go through. After AT GAYA. 255 coming down from one hill he had to ascend another, named Edmsild, which, though not as high as Pretsild, was found to be more tedious to mount owing to the steps being wider ; and at the foot of this hill also there is a tank named Rarukoond, where an offering had to be made. The next thing after that was to deposit an offering at the foot of a Burr tree, which closed the devotions of the day. The course for the third day was confined to visiting five sacred places within the city; and Monohnr was already congratulating himself that the most wearisome part of the work was over, when he was called upon, on the fourth day, to go out beyond the city on a round o Tirthas that knocked him up completely before half the day was over. " I am feeling very weary. Can we not stop here for the day, father ? " " Not at this stage surely," said the Gayawal. " The ledis have to be visited in proper order, and on particular days, and a good part of to-day's work remains yet to be gone through." " What you say is the letter of the rules perhaps/' answered Monohur, somewhat pettishly. " May we not read their spirit more favourably ? " " Ah, yes, the spirit is doubtless the real thing, my son ; but the letter must also be observed, and you surely cannot close for this day without visiting the fig-tree at Buddha Gaya, under which Sakya Muni sat in meditative abstraction for five years/' " The tree under which Sakya Muni performed his devotions ? Do I hear you aright, father ? " " Yes, my son, you do." " Why, Sakya Muni has been dead now some two 256 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. thousand and five hundred years or so. Can the tree be as old as that ? " " Even so ; for that tree can never die." " It is very hard to believe that, surely ; but, at any rate, you have dispelled my weariness, father, by exciting my curiosity, and I would go to it at once by all means/' They did go to the tree accordingly, and devoutly was the pinda offered at its foot. But the appearance of the tree did not quite establish the marvellous age assigned to it, and Monohur was unable to grant the implicit con- viction demanded of him on that point. The trunk of the tree was much decayed indeed, and most of its branches were barkless and rotten; but the stem and . branches on one side were yet green, and it seemed as if this result had been attained by planting a new tree inside the decaying stem of an older one. " It is a high tree," said Monohur, " and decidedly old, but certainly not older than a hundred or a hundred and fifty years, I think. Two thousand and five hundred years is apparently a most preposterous age to claim for it." " You are talking foolishly, my son, of things you do not comprehend. Look at the tree with the eye of faith and you will think very differently of it than you do now. It was blessed by him to whom it gave shade to eat his rice and milk, and also by the Devatas who crowded around the sage to listen to his instructions. Can such a tree ever shrivel up or die ? " Monohur received the reply dubiously, with the air of a person who had little sympathy with such monkish beliefs ; but no further discussion on the point was called for, and he was wise enough to keep silent where dis- cussion could only lead to misconstruction. AT GAYA. 257 The devotions of the fifth day were commenced by a visit to the famous temple of Vishnupad, which bears the mark of Vishnu's foot, which was most devoutly wor- shipped by the Sunyasi. The number of bedis here was so great that it took the pilgrims five days to perform all the poojahs that had to be gone through, after which they crossed the Phalgoo to visit Ram Gaya, a small wooded hill opposite to the city. " I am quite sick of this wearisome round of services, Babajee," complained Monohur to his confidant and friend. " So am I," replied the Sunyasi ; " but we have begun and must finish them properly, and a day or two more at most will give us the wished for relief/' The relief came at last, the devotions at all the forty- five Tirthas being finished in fifteen days. " I congratulate you heartily on the completion of your errand here, my son," said the priest now to Monohur. " Are you well satisfied with the manner in which I have performed my duty to you ? " "" Certainly/' said Monohur, "and we are very much beholden to you for it." " You do not seem to be half as grateful for it though as you ought, young man/' replied the Gayawal, more severely than he had ever spoken to Monohur before. " Do you know what service I have rendered to you by my ministration ? I have not only opened the road out of purgatory for all your ancestors, but have secured their and your salvation also." " 0, father, I fully appreciate your labours," responded Monohur, " and am really very grateful for them ;" and the Gayawal was not unwilling to believe that it was so when a few bright silver pieces were slipped into his hands. 258 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. CHAPTER XXXV. SAKYA, AND SOME STORIES ABOUT HIM. PUNDIT LAZSHMI NARAYAN was a very amiable old man, habitually distinguished by an ^indefinable expression of good-nature in his face, which was a faithful index of the gentleness of his heart. He was a strict Hindu, and, despite his scholarship, believed sincerely with the Gaya- wal that the Buddha fig-tree was two thousand and five hundred years old. There were several other orthodox stories of similar character to which he clung with equal tenacity ; and it gave him great pleasure to dilate upon these for the edification of those who came within the range of his beneficence or instruction. " You believe, sir, that the tree is two thousand and five hundred years old ? " asked Monohur of the scholar somewhat anxiously. " I can have no doubt on the point, my son," was the reply. " Sakya Muni was a great saint, and it was nothing for him to confer freshness and immortality on a tree." Monohur looked doubtful and unsatisfied, upon which the Pundit uttered something like a sigh. " I cannot blame your incredulity, my son," said he ; " but the people of Gaya knew Sakya personally in the past, and were witnesses of all he did among them; and we, their descendants, are bound to accept their convic- tions as they have come down to us." SAKYA, AND SOME STORIES ABOUT HIM. 259 " The argument is hardly logical, Mohasoy," said Monohur. " The contemporaries of Sakya at Gaya may have heard him bless a tree, but they were not witnesses of its long life, and it is that marvel only that I hesitate to accept/' " I understand your difficulty, my son. The science of the age regards the utterances of orthodoxy as ignorant mistakes, while orthodoxy regards the objections of science as dogmatic nonsense. With so much difference to start with an agreement in belief between the two is of course not to be expected. But the lives of our Kishis were all more or less marvellous, and of none more so than of Sakya, and it does appear to us of the old school that the time for wondering at such relations has long gone by." The Pundit spoke with some feeling, and Monohur hardly knew what reply to make to him. " For my own part, Mohasoy," said he at last, " I do not exactly disbelieve all that is said of the sayings and doings of our older sages ; and of Sakya in particular I would be loath indeed to speak except with veneration and love. But the tree " " 0, let us abandon the tree then, if it be the only stumbling block between you and me/' replied the Pundit, smilingly, " or rather let us throw it down as a bridge to get over the disagreement that momentarily separates us. What is your opinion of the other marvels related of Sakya?" " I can hardly have any opinion, sir, of what I do not know. I am very ignorant of the history of his life, and would like exceedingly if you would recite some of the more remarkable passages of it for my instruction." " Most willingly will I do that," said the Pundit ; and 3 2 260 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. he began the narration in a very sweet manner peculiar to himself. " Sakya was the son of a Rajah of Kapilavastya, named Suddhodana, by his wife Maya. At the conception of Maya the worlds were filled with light, the deaf heard, the dumb spake, the lame walked, the crooked were straightened, and all beings in heaven and earth were filled with joy." " This I can well believe in with you, Mohasoy, for it was only an especial way elected by the Most High to signify to the world that He had sent an especial agent for its instruction." " Yes, and it was particularly announced at the time by far-seeing prophets and seers that if the child in Maya's womb reigned on his father's throne he would be a Chakravati, or universal sovereign, while if he became a recluse he would be a Buddha, and the greatest of the Buddhas, who would make all the worlds glad with the ambrosia of Nirvdn." " And what did he choose, sir, to begin with ? " " He was brought up by his parents in accordance with his birth; and it was not till he had grown up and had become a father that his mind was otherwise turned. It was the sight of a corse lying on the road- side that effected the change. " ' I am a prince, young and vigorous/ said he mourn- fully, as he looked at the dead, ' but, like that body, I too must die. Nothing on earth is stable, nothing real. Why should I not endeavour to find out what reality is ? ' " He determined to be a recluse to this end, and, deserting wife, child, and parents, he went out of his father's house to beg his living in the streets. A peasant's wife having, in responding to one of these SAKYA, AND SOME STORIES ABOUT HIM. 261 calls, come out, leading her child by the hand, the thoughts of home, wife, and child were recalled to his mmd, and overwhelmed him with agony. But he arose purified, murmuring that his mission was, not to care for the welfare of any particular family, however dear it might be to him, but to free the world from the thraldom of death/' " What a brave, noble idea that was indeed ! " ex- claimed Monohur, with unfeigned applause and the mois- ture of admiration in his eyes; while the Pundit went on rehearsing his story, pleased to find that he was listened to with attention. " One day a mother, having lost her only child, came to Sakya, asking him to restore his life, ' For surely/ said she, ' thou canst do it if thou wilt.' " ' Get me a handful of dhdn then,' said the sage, 'from a house in which no person has ever died, to enable me to accomplish what you desire / and the woman went forth readily to get the article required. "But there was no such house to be found anywhere, for in every place they complained of having lost hus- band or wife, brother or sister, son or daughter ; and the truth thus gently taught was learnt, and the woman, coming back to the sage, simply laid herself at his feet. " ' You thought that you alone had lost a son/ said Sakya to her kindly. ' The law of death is for us all. Follow me if you want to know what the law of life is/ ' " This was a very superior lesson indeed, and most naively imparted," said Monohur ; " and you see, Moha- soy, how Sakya avoided attempting a miracle when he was sorely tempted to commit himself." " Ah, but I have not exhausted the history about him, my son. He did work miracles, or wonders at all events, 262 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. of even greater import than conferring immortality on a tree ; and of such a character was his performance at Rajowlee, which he passed on his way to Gaya. " Rajowlee, as you have seen it, is a goodly town to this day ; but at the time of Sakya it was of much larger dimensions, and the residence of a king. The Rajah was great in every respect, but extremely unhappy, for a terrible Rakshasi went about the city, from house to house, at night, and eat up every man and woman who was unable to escape her. No traces of the demon were found in the day, and no one had the slightest idea as to where she lived, or whence she came. "The king ordered several precautions to be taken against her depredations; but they were of no avail. His soldiers could not keep her out of the city at night, nor were his police able to find out where she burrowed in the day. " It was at this juncture that Sakya entered the town, clothed in the habit of a Bhikshu, and carrying with him a Ndmmdld and a few Poonthees. 1 He arrived late in the evening, and applied to a woodman for quarters for the night. ' You are very welcome surely,' said the woodman's wife. 'Our house has little accommodation in it, and our means are slender ; but everything that we have is freely at your disposal, since you have not despised to honour us/ " ' 0, good dame/ said the sage, ' my wants are even less than your means, and I shall surely remain better here than under richer roofs/ " ' Make yourself comfortable then, in your own way/ gaid the woman, 'and mind this, only that you keep the 1 Sacred books. SAKYA, AND SOME STORIES ABOUT HIM. 263 door of your apartment fast at night, and take not a wink of sleep. We sleep in this city at day-time, and watch in the night/ " ' Ha ! That is a rather unusual practice. May I know the cause of it ? ^ " ' Yes/ said the woodman's wife ; and she related the story of the Rakshasi as you have heard it. " ' Very good, dame/ said Sakya. ' Now make me a fire before the door of your house and I shall sit up there the whole night and protect all of you here, and, may be, I shall also be able to discover the Rakshasi/ " ' Don't be so rash as that/ remonstrated the woman. ' It will go hard with us if a Bhikshu is killed in our house ; and for your own sake also we dissuade you from undertaking such a risk/ " ' But there is no risk at all to me, dame/ answered Sakya. ' The Poonthees I hold in my hand are feared even by the Devas in heaven, and the Daityas in pdtdl, and no Rakshasi will ever be able to harm me while I am so armed, for they are far more powerful than khargas and pardsus.' Saying this the sage drew out a small Poonthee, and sat by the fire lighted for him to read. " At night the yell of the Rakshasi was heard as usual, mingled with screams of fear from the people, and the terrible visitant was seen passing from house to house, doing as much mischief as usual. " ' Where is she ? ' asked some in deadly fright. " ' There, doubling yonder corner/ stammered others indistinctly in reply; and all eyes were involuntarily turned to the corner indicated, where stood the wood- man's house, with Sakya on the watch. "The Rakshasi saw the Bhikshu, and stretched out her arms to seize him ; but she started back the moment 264 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. the Poonthee was raised against her/ and the sage having at the same time thrown a handful of dry beans into the fire, one of these refracted back hot and burning, and struck the fiend in the eye. With a fearful howl the Rakshasi fled, and everything was quiet in the city for the rest of the night. " The door of the woodman's house was besieged by a large number of visitors early on the following morn- ing, all anxious to greet the Bhikshu with thanks for having so successfully repelled the demon during the night, which had never before been achieved. " ' But surely she will come again ? Can you not destroy her for good ? ' " ' It is for the king to do so. I can find out the Rak- shasi for him if he wishes it/ "The king heard with delight the account of the Bhikshu' s adventure as it was related to him ; and, when it was further reported that the young mendicant had offered to point out the Rakshasi to him, he deputed his officers of state to beseech him to come to the palace to advise and direct him. " ( Will you find out the Rakshasi for us, O youth ; her who has depopulated my capital for so many years ? ' " ' Yes, sire, if you will allow me to search for her in every place/ " ' You can do that assuredly, and no one will care to hinder you;' and Sakya went from house to house, but could not find the wicked being anywhere. " ' Well, you have not been successful in your search yet, Bhikshu. Do you despair of it ? ' " ' Certainly not/ said Sakya, f for your own palace still remains unsearched/ " ' My palace ! Surely the Rakshasi cannot be here ? * SAKYA, AND SOME STORIES ABOUT HIM. 265 " ' I am unable to answer you till I have looked for her in it.' " ' Be it so then/ said the king, f and I myself will show you over it / and there was silence all through the building as the Bhikshu, accompanied by the king, went from room to room, looking fixedly at the face of every inmate, till he came to the apartments of the king's most favourite wife. " ' You cannot enter here/ said one of the female servants of the queen. " ' Why so ? ' asked the king, in a rather unpleasant and peremptory tone. " f Because the queen is unwell, my lord, and keeps her bed/ " ' Unwell ? I did not hear of it. Unwell since when, and what is she ailing of ? ' " ' She fell sick last night, and an eye of hers is dis- tempered. She cries out and says that it is burning ; and she will not see anyone.' " ' That is the Rakshasi, king ! ' said Sakya ; and he related the whole story of what had taken place in the night. " ' Ah ! it is just what my mind had foreboded, and yet refused to believe. Great is your penetration and knowledge, O sage, and you must suffer me to be a Bhikshu with you that I may gather wisdom from your lips/ " The Rakshasi was buried alive by order of the king, who became a Bhikshu ; and he accompanied Sakya in all his wanderings." " The tale is a pleasing one," said Mouohur, " but you must really excuse me, Mohasoy, if I cannot force my mind to believe in Rakshases and Rakshasis ; nor would 266 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. Sakya perhaps have much liked the connection of such a story with his name." " Why not ? It says nothing but what bears the most honourable testimony of him." "Ah, that of course. But what I have heard of Sakya, represents him as the very symbol of truth, while these accounts of Eakshases and other similar beings, though they are extremely popular, are, it appears to me, all more or less untrue." " Do you say that, Monohur," exclaimed the Sunyasi, "after what you saw yourself at Bona Ghat on your return home ? " Monohur was almost struck dumb by the argument ad hominem advanced against him, but still endeavoured to make a distinction between a belief in spirits and one in Rakshases and monsters. " That is a distinction without a difference, my son/' said Pundit Lakshmi Narayan. " You, who have had a personal illustration of the supernatural, ought to be the last person to doubt the accuracy of such a long and well received story as that I have narrated to you. There are really more things in heaven and earth than we do or can possibly know of." AT BENARES. 267 CHAPTER XXXVI. AT BENARES. THE seven pre-eminently holy places in India are : Kashi, Kanchi, Hurdwar, Ayodhya, Prayaga, Jagganath, and Mathoora, and of these Kashi is held to be the most important that is, the most sacred seat of Hinduism. It Las, in fact, the credit of being a portion of heaven let down upon the earth for the salvation of mankind, and forms the chief stronghold of Saivaism, as it was of Buddhism in the past. " Where do we go now ? Which is the next Tirthas- than for us to visit t " asked Monohur of the Sunyasi, in a consulting tone. " Siva Dhaniya Kashi ! l Siva Dhaniya Kashi ! " burst forth the latter in an exulting strain, starting from his seat. " We are now nearest to it, my son, and should see it before any other place." The enthusiasm of the Sunyasi was quickly caught by Monohur. " I too am very anxious, father, to see that ancient seat of learning and holiness, to hear the very name of which both delights the ear and purifies the heart." " You are right, my son, you are right ; for such in truth are the virtues of that name. There is no holier 1 I.e. Kashi exalted of Siva. 268 THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. place than Kashi on the earth, for it is the residence ol all our thirty-three millions of deities ; and its purity is so great that to the Hindu death in it secures immediate salvation, while even to the Mlech'ha (impure), though he may not obtain emancipation thereby, his sins are forgiven him." " Should we not make it our home for good then, Babajee, seeing that we have no other place to retire to?" "No, my son. You are young, and 1 am too worldly- minded yet to advise you to withdraw yourself from your kind in the prime of life, even for a residence in Kashi itself. Kashi is the final home of all orthodox Hindus, but only after the decline of life has been reached. It would suit me well as a place of rest, if I chose to remain in it and could do so ; but you have other duties in the world to perform, and must not fly from them." " I do not feel so, Babajee. Since my mother's death I have known no such thrilling delight in life as I might not easily give up." " One chain, and perhaps the most pleasing chain of all, that bound you to the world has indeed been very abruptly broken; but we shall forge others for you, my son, which you must bear, and which you will bear wil- lingly when you get accustomed to them. Life has many duties, and you must be true to them all." Monohur gave no answer, and was perhaps unequal to do so; nor did the Sunyasi care to pursue the subject further. , There was much to do in connection with their forward journey, and he was soon very busy with their details. The road from Gaya to Benares passes through a most beautiful country, though in some places it is excessively lonely, nay, almost alarmingly desolate. As a rule, how- AT BENARES. 269 ever, pilgrims encounter no disagreeable stoppages on it, beyond perhaps the challenge of an exacting chowkeydar, or the clamorous expostulations of the ferryman on the Soane, and these were the only two impediments that our travellers met with. " We have reached the sacred city at last," exclaimed the Sunyasi, as they arrived on the banks of the Ganges. " Yonder is Rajghat before us, and we have only to cross the river." " Ah ! is that the front of the city then that we see on the other side of the stream ? What a beautiful pano- rama it presents indeed ! Such a place must surely be worthy of the gods ! " Benares is built on a bend of the Ganges, and extends, or extended at one time, from the Barna Nuddee on one side, to the Asi Nullah on the other, which accounts for its name of Barna- Asi, or Baranasi. Its outward appear- ance is that of a high semi-circular amphitheatre of about four miles in length, overgrown with temples from one end to the other, and having a frontage of bathing ghats of superb design. The river before it is crowded with boats, and the ghats and river-banks are at all times full of pilgrims and bathers. The bank opposite to the city, where Monohur and the Sunyasi now stood, is called Vyasa-Kashi, as having been set up by the great com- piler of the Yeds in rivalry to the gods ; and, in derision of his effort, it has ever since been held that a Hindu dying at this place becomes an ass at his next birth. " Let us quit this spot quickly, my son/' said the Sunyasi ; and he began to hail out lustily for a boat. " Why in such a hurry, Babajee ? Why not enjoy for a while the wonderful sight before us ? Have you got wearied of it so soon ? " 2 ;o THE YOUNG ZEMINDAR. " Wearied of it ? Of course I am. The ground we stand upon is accursed, and no Hindu should willingly tarry on it longer than he must." A boat being now got Monohur and the Sunyasi were ferried over the river with celerity, after which they entered the narrow streets of the sacred city, which they found crowded with hosts of pilgrims. The devotees were of all classes, and bore every variety of feature and appearance ; but by far the most remarkable among them were the Byragis, Sunyasis, and Fakirs, who were congregated in great numbers, and wei*e very much honoured. "There are many men of your cloth here, Babajee," said Monohur ; " but they do not, generally, seem to be much accustomed to abstinence and the mortifications of the flesh, which the Shastras require of them/' " Ah, my son, what you say is indeed true to a great extent, the Mohunts and Fakirs being for the most part drawn from the dregs of society by the desire of gain. But there are, nevertheless, those among them, Monohur, who are of a very superior character in all respects well-read Pundits, thoroughly acquainted with the Veds and the Purans, and very rigorous and strict in their discipline." " Even more remarkable than the Mohunts and Fakirs, Babajee, are the bulls which are passing so listlessly through the crowd ; and I see that they are receiving offerings of flowers and food-grains from several people." " They have a right to them, my son, for they are sacred to Mahadeva, to whom the city belongs." " And the apes and monkeys seated upon the temples and surrounding walls, are they also sacred to the god, and entitled to be fed and worshipped ? " AT BENARES. 271 " Yes; and don't you observe how patiently they are waiting for the largesses to which they are accustomed ? " "Then let us do as the others are doing," said Monohur joyfully ; and they fed and decorated the bulls, and threw out plantains and nuts among the apes as they passed on. In the immediate vicinity of the temples several pil- grims were seen measuring the road with their bodies by continuous prostrations, a form of reaching a holy place which is held to be particularly efficacious. Mono- hur, who knew of the practice, was preparing to follow it when he was held back by the Sunyasi. " It will be enough, my son," said the latter, " if I do that for both of us, as I am used to it ;" and he at once began his prostrations the moment the patdkd, or ensign, of Visheswara's temple was visible to him. Visheswara, as the sovereign deity of Benares, is always the first to be visited by pilgrims. The temple dedicated to him is small, and stands in the midst of a roof-covered quadrangle, surmounted by a gilded tower.