Due West Part 8

If the reader will consult the map of India it will be seen that few regions in the world present such an array of remarkable cities as have sprung up and flourished in the Ganges-Jumna valley, of which we are now writing. Here we have Agra, Delhi, Cawnpore, Lucknow, Allahabad, Benares, Mirzapur, Patna, Decca, and Murshedabad. What historic a.s.sociations arise at the bare mention of these Indian cities, each one of which affords a record reaching so far down the corridors of the past as to fascinate the archaeologist by its very mystery.

We left Agra regretfully; one would like more time to examine and become familiar with all its monuments, and yet they seem as deeply impressed upon the memory as though we had known them for years, and had lived long in their midst. The Rajpootana State Railway was taken for Jeypore, situated a hundred and fifty miles from Agra, and justly reputed to be the finest native city in the country: in many respects it is unique.

The route thither lay through a very level country of great fertility, showing line crops of cereals, with frequent and vivid fields of yellow mustard in full bloom. Jeypore is the capital of the territory belonging to the Maharajah Mardozing, whose independent possessions are just about the size of the State of Ma.s.sachusetts, the British not having "annexed"

this special territory. The prince is a middle-aged, affable, and intelligent person, very courteous to strangers, but especially so to Americans, concerning whose government he is quite inquisitive. He is a man of more than ordinary culture, has traveled much, is exceedingly progressive in his ideas, and seems to command the respect of the English, and of all who are brought within his circle.

Jeypore is well fortified, and the prince keeps up a modest military organization. In driving about the city we observed long rows of dwelling-houses, rose-tinted, with pretty verandas and latticed windows, besides numerous large and well-arranged public structures devoted to educational purposes; some for teaching music, others devoted to the fine arts, and some to the primary branches of education, such as arithmetic, geography, etc. We were told that several able foreign teachers were in the Maharajah's employment, the schools all being free.

Among the public buildings we noticed the palace, half a mile long, and eight stories high, well divided into courts, gardens, and public halls.

In one of the latter was being held an extensive fair of Indian goods and manufactures, which for variety, comprehensiveness, richness of the articles, and judicious arrangement, would have done credit to any European city. We noticed a public mint, an observatory, a hospital, and a large a.r.s.enal. All these, as well as a very considerable number of the dwelling-houses, bore a certain conspicuous mark, showing them to belong to the Maharajah. He is much more western than eastern in his ideas; more ready to expend his large revenue for the public good than to build Peac.o.c.k Thrones, which at the same time excite the marvel and cupidity of the world; and so this very presentable city, in the heart of India, is a mixture of Orientalism and European innovation, the streets even being lighted by gas. Though, to speak honestly, this last fact seemed a trifle out of place; wild monkeys and crocodiles in the environs, and gaslights in the streets!

Jeypore is a beautiful little city, and ancient withal, though there are no ruins here; everything gives evidence of present prosperity, peace, and abundance. The houses are painted in a toy-like manner, but are neat and pretty. Queer little canvas-covered, two-wheeled carts, their tops shaped like half an egg-sh.e.l.l, and drawn by a single bullock, trot about the streets in a very lively fashion, some of them closely curtained containing women of the harem, but one sees few women except of the humble cla.s.s; Oriental exclusion is observed here. Under this prince's seemingly wise rule the population exhibit a marked and favorable contrast to that of India generally, over which the authority of Great Britain extends. There are no mud cabins, no visible want. We did not see a beggar in all Jeypore. The people are decently clothed, and well-lodged in nice-looking houses, most of which are two stories high.

The streets are exceptionally broad and neatly kept, being regularly sprinkled by coolies to lay the dust, though in a primitive manner.

These fellows carry goat skins, filled with water, fastened to their backs, with the neck coming forward under the right arm, and by swinging the nozzle from side to side the street gets a uniform wetting. This same mode is adopted even in so large a city as Calcutta, where a Yankee watering-cart would supersede the services of twenty-five coolies who are thus employed. Many fountains ornament the streets of Jeypore, placed in the centres of open squares. The expression upon the faces of the people is that of smiling content; in short, an air of thrift pervades everything. All this was in such decided contrast to those portions of the country which we had visited as to make a strong impression, and lead to some deductions not entirely favorable to English rule in India.

In speaking of this subject to an intelligent English resident, he replied that we had seen an exceptional specimen of the native control in this instance; and that other regions of India, were we to visit them, would present a very different state of affairs, all of which may be true. We ventured however, for the sake of argument, to question the justice of the tenure by which England held possession of India, and were promptly answered: "We conquered this territory from the Mohammedan invaders, who were ruling it with a rod of iron. Our coming has been and is a deliverance. We did not even overthrow the Mohammedan Empire. That was done by the Mahrattas, under French officers, from whom, in 1803, we rescued the Emperor, whose descendants we have ever since pensioned.

None of the princes and sultans whom we have deposed were hereditary sovereigns. They were actually rebellious viceroys and governors who had a.s.sumed their position during the confusion of the times. In short, that our rule is a blessing to India, to-day, does not admit of an argument." We frankly acknowledged very modified feelings upon the subject since arriving in the country.

Wild animals are abundant in the neighborhood, the tiger especially being hunted and feared, and not without abundant reason; for here, as at Singapore, men, women, and children are daily sacrificed to their rapacious appet.i.tes in some part of the district. It is said to be a fact that these animals, in their wild state, having once tasted human flesh, will be satisfied with no other food; but will leave the antelope and smaller game, known to be comparatively plenty in the neighborhood of the jungle, and lie in wait for days to capture human prey, even stealing at night within the precincts of the villages, and among the native huts. They exhibit great cunning in their attacks, rarely showing themselves when there is more than one person present, and never doing so where there are numbers, except when driven in the hunt. Instinct teaches them that one individual may be overcome, but that two or three are capable of victoriously defending themselves. The natives set ingenious traps for the tigers, and many are captured, for which they receive a bounty. The usual trap is formed by digging a well in the earth, ten feet square and fifteen feet or more in depth, wider at the bottom than the top. This is ingeniously covered with light branches and leaves, and located in the path where a tiger has been tracked. For some reason this animal, having once pa.s.sed through a jungle, will ever after follow as nearly as possible his own foot-prints, and can thus easily be led into a pitfall of the character we have described. Having once got into this well he cannot possibly get out, and here he is permitted to become so nearly starved as to deprive him of all powers of resistance, in which condition he is secured. A little food and water soon restores him to his normal condition, when he finds himself a prisoner in a stout cage, behind strong iron bars. For a few days after his capture the animal's rage knows no bounds, and his struggles to free himself are ceaseless, sometimes even ending in self-inflicted death by dashing himself head foremost upon the bars. If not an old animal, he, however, generally subsides into sullen acceptance of the situation after a day or two.

We were shown half a dozen lately taken and confined separately in strong cages in one of the open squares of the city. Two of them had a very bad record, and were real man-eaters, having a score or more of coolies charged to their account. These were all condemned to be killed, as they proved to be too old to sell for exhibition in the European markets, but the young ones are often thus disposed of. A tiger, one or even two years old, can be tamed and rendered quite docile for menagerie purposes; but when taken wild at an age exceeding these figures they are never quite safe. Those which we saw in the square at Jeypore were splendid specimens of their race, full of fire and rage, chafing at their imprisonment, and springing violently against the iron bars of their cages at every one who approached them. They were quite unlike the poor beasts of the menageries, who have had all their spirit and savage instincts subdued by confinement.

Having obtained the necessary permit to visit the royal summer palace of Ambar, a few miles from the city walls, among the picturesque hills, elephants, belonging to the Maharajah were sent for us, and we mounted them, the animals kneeling at the word of command for us to do so. Our party, six in number, was divided so that four persons, including the driver, rode on each elephant. They were large and docile creatures, being respectively seventy and ninety years of age. Their shuffling, flat-footed tread is peculiar, but not very unpleasant, except when the driver hurries the animals; but even then the gait is not nearly so trying to the rider as is that of the camel, which is only comparable to a Cunarder pitching in a head sea. The elephants seem to be very easily controlled by the driver, who, however, is armed with a steel-pointed weapon which he resorts to freely if his directions are not obeyed, and the animal evidently stands in mortal dread of the instrument. All cla.s.ses of the people ride upon the camel here, from the prince to the peddler; but the elephant is only in common use among the nabobs and members of the royal household, officers of state, and the like. It costs as much to keep and support an elephant as it does to maintain eight horses or ten camels, the latter animal thriving on cheap food.

A visit to the summer palace was very interesting, the local guide pointing out every object of note, and explaining all clearly. That part of the s.p.a.cious buildings reserved for the harem was simply perfection, in point of luxury, as conceived from an Oriental stand-point. The audience rooms, the throne room, the domestic living rooms, and the various offices of the palace, were large and admirably arranged, furnished in the Eastern fashion. The white marble work was everywhere exquisite in its finish, and, wherever it was possible, superseded the use of wood. The windows, opening from all the general apartments, afforded views across the hills, valleys, and lakes of the city of Jeypore, two or three leagues away. The group of the harem apartments, as usual, all opened inward, upon an area where grew orange, lemon, and fig-trees, full of fruit, also pomegranates and trailing vines, gracefully arranged. There were many varieties of flowers in bloom besides roses, which we strongly suspected came from afar. They were too familiar, those tea, damask, Jaqueminot, Marshal Niel, and moss roses.

The indigenous ones were not nearly so full in leaf or pure in color, nor so fragrant or beautiful. The s.p.a.cious marble bath was also in an open area, or court, shut in from all eyes save those of the denizens themselves, and of such depth and size as to admit of swimming. This tiny lake was bordered by thick growing myrtles, and a shrub with a dagger-like leaf, bearing a trumpet-shaped flower, snow white, but unknown to us, seemingly of the convolvulus genus. The dark winding labyrinths and pa.s.sages from one part of the Ambar Palace to another were utterly confusing, and of a nature designed to mystify any one but an habitue. When the palace has its summer complement of residents, servants and all, it must contain some three hundred souls, besides the soldiery, who occupy the barracks outside to guard the entrances. It is a fort as well as a palace, and so arranged as to form a citadel capable of sustaining a siege, if necessary; while its lofty and commanding situation is such, that it could not be taken by an attacking force without great loss of life on their part. We were shown in the bas.e.m.e.nt a singular shrine or temple, before which was a large, flat stone, where daily sacrifices of a sheep or goat is made by the priests. In the olden time human sacrifices took place on the stone, according to the guide.

Fresh signs showed that the ceremony of blood spilling had lately taken place, and, on inquiry, we were told that the carca.s.s was given as food to the poor, which was certainly one feature of the practice quite commendable.

When at last we mounted the elephants to again return to the city, it was past meridian, but so powerful was the heat of the sun that we could hardly have sustained it without the protection of umbrellas, and thought if this was winter weather in India what must midsummer be?

Though so much further north, of the equator than Ceylon, the heat seemed nearly as great, and even more insupportable. There was a certain moisture and softness about the high temperature at Colombo, which we had experienced a month before; while here there was a dry, burning directness of the sun's power which was absolutely withering. As we pa.s.sed over the road, swayed hither and thither upon the backs of the huge animals, it was amusing to watch the gambols of the wild monkeys in the trees, and to observe the flocks of wild peac.o.c.ks in the open fields, both monkeys and peac.o.c.ks being held sacred. There were tall cranes wading on the edges of the ponds, with other queer-legged, odd water-fowls strutting through the mud. The crocodiles were seen sunning themselves on the river's bank, watching for an Indian child or dog to devour. Fancy colored parrots were plenty; and when we got within the city gates, we met such dense flocks of tame pigeons, of various colors, as could not be equaled elsewhere. They were of several species, well-defined: fan-tailed, bloaters, divers, etc., some pure white, some mottled, and some as blue as the sky. Like those at Venice, they are protected by law. Indeed all animal life is spared, from religious convictions, except such as is brought to the altar. We finally got safely back to our quarters, at the Kaiser-i-Hind Hotel, far too well pleased with our trip to Ambar to cavil at a most indifferent dinner.

There are many native princes who govern states in India, as is the case at Jeypore; but they do so under sufferance, as it were, acknowledging their "subordinate dependence" to the British government. They form a body of feudatory rulers, possessing revenue and armies of their own.

There is always a British "Resident" at their courts, who acts as an adviser, as it is termed, but who is, in plain English, a sort of acknowledged and permitted spy. These princes are not allowed to make war upon each other, or to form alliances with foreign states; and, upon the whole, all things considered, it is perhaps the best possible arrangement for the princes and for their subjects. England does not hesitate to interfere if a prince is guilty of any decided mismanagement, protecting the weak, and imposing peace. We were informed that the power of life and death, in single cases, rests with the Maharajah of Jeypore, as well as with the rest of the native rulers.

Thus one third of India, embracing a population of between fifty and sixty millions of people, is still under native rule.

From Jeypore to Bombay is a distance of seven hundred miles, a journey which we were three days and nights in performing. Most of the route lay through a spa.r.s.ely-populated country, very similar in character to the sections already described,--the greater part of India being an immense plain. It was curious on this route to observe that all the railroad station-houses were built with white domes like mosques, a fancy which was also carried into practice upon many of the better cla.s.s of village houses; the effect, however, was far from pleasing to the eye. Now and then a few antelopes were seen; they would gaze fixedly at the train for a moment, then turn and spring away in immense bounds. Now a lynx and now a fox would put in an appearance in the early morning, in the lonely district through which we pa.s.sed, generally at a wholesome distance from the cars. We were up and watchful; there is not much sleep to be obtained on the cars in India; besides, one does not wish to lose the crisp freshness of the dawn. Before the sun fairly rises the temperature was a little chilly, but directly its power was felt, and it got fairly started upon its diurnal path, there was a change of thirty or forty degrees, and then--it is impossible to describe how the golden sunlight flooded the plains. Small game of various species was frequently seen in the fields and hedges; kingfishers, kites, and hawks put in an appearance, and a tall bird standing four feet high was pointed out to us, called a sarus, gray in color, and of the stork family. The pretty Indian blue jay seemed omnipresent.

As we got further southward we came upon the great poppy fields, cultivated for opium, which formed a remarkable feature in the landscape. They were scarlet in color, mingled occasionally with pink.

In other parts of the country we had seen the beautiful, though baleful, fields of poppies, dressed in bridal white. The effect of either is very fine when the eye measures the singular display by miles in extent, the rich, glutinous flowers nodding gracefully in the gentle breeze. We were told that from six to seven hundred thousand acres of land, mostly in the valley of the Ganges, were devoted to the poppy culture. A large share of these opium farms, as they may be called, belong to the English government, and are cultivated by their agents.

Those which are conducted on private account are very heavily taxed, and are carried on in the interest of the Pa.r.s.ee merchants of Bombay, who control a large share of the opium trade, handling not only their own product, but also that of the government.

Oftentimes, near these gorgeous poppy fields were broad ripening acres of grain, which would have been denuded of their valuable property by the great flocks of birds floating hither and thither, were it not that precautions were taken to drive them away. A tall platform is raised upon poles in the centre of the field, with a slight straw shelter over it, upon which a young lad or girl is stationed, who thus overlooks the whole. They have no fire-arms, but are supplied with a simple sling and a few stones; should a bird be seen too close to the precious grain, an unerring stone will find him, and his body becomes a warning for his companions. The monkeys, who abound in southern India, are not so easily got rid of. Birds will not fly after dark, nor much before the sun rises in the morning; but the monkeys raid the fruit and vegetable fields by night, and are capable of organizing a descent upon some promising point with all the forethought of human thieves. Besides which, birds, as a rule, will take only such food as they can eat, but the Indian monkeys appropriate whatever they can lay their paws upon, having a special regard for light domestic articles, with which they have a fancy for decking the tops of the highest trees.

While Calcutta is the governmental or political capital of India, Bombay is its commercial metropolis; and an obvious sense of rivalry exists between the two places. The opening of communication with England by the Red Sea route has given the latter city a great business impetus, and it is growing rapidly, possessing more elements of future greatness than any other city in Asia. It forms the western gateway to India, is entirely modern, and three quarters European. The Pa.r.s.ees, Hindoos, and Mussulmans make up the other quarter of the fixed population, while the floating populace represents nearly every Asiatic people. These two princ.i.p.al cities are located on the opposite sides of the peninsula, Calcutta being on the Bay of Bengal and Bombay on the Sea of Arabia. The Pa.r.s.ees number over a hundred thousand, and represent a large portion of the wealth of the city, being also by far the most intelligent and enterprising natives of India. They sympathize entirely with the English government, which gives them freedom of opinion and protection for life and property, neither of which could be a.s.sured under native auspices.

They keep entirely aloof, socially, from other races, and strictly preserve their well-defined individuality. Their dress is peculiar, partly Oriental, partly European, and they are still like their fathers, after thousands of years, the consistent followers of Zoroaster.

The Pa.r.s.ees settled here more than eight centuries ago, after their expulsion from Persia. Their temples contain no images, nothing but the altar bearing the sacred fire, which their fathers brought with them when they landed here so long ago, and which has never for one instant been extinguished. They worship the sun as the representative of G.o.d, and fire in all its forms, as well as the ocean, which would seem to be an antagonistic agent; but as their religion recognizes one Good and one Evil Principle, who are ever contending for the mastery of the universe, perhaps these emblems are no paradox. One of the first places we visited in Bombay was Malabar Hill, a lofty piece of ground just outside of the city, upon the apex of which are the five famous "Towers of Silence,"

const.i.tuting the cemetery of the Pa.r.s.ees. Beautiful gardens, kept ever in bloom and loveliness by the most a.s.siduous care, surround these towers, which are the subjects of such sad a.s.sociations. The oldest of these structures is between two and three centuries in age, and one is solely designed for the bodies of criminals whose bones are not permitted to mingle with those of the just. When a death occurs among the Pa.r.s.ees, the body is brought here to a small temple, containing the sacred fire, within the grounds. Here a certain formula is gone through with, and a solemn chant without words is performed by the a.s.sembled mourners. Presently the corpse is carried upon a stretcher through a door of one of the towers, and is placed upon a grating raised a few feet from the ground, where it is completely exposed. The bearers instantly retire, the door is closed and locked. These towers are open at the top, on the cornice of which hundreds of vultures are always waiting in full view of every one, and as soon as the body is left they swoop down to their awful meal, eagerly tearing and devouring the flesh, absolutely picking it clean from the bones, which fall into a s.p.a.ce below in an indiscriminate ma.s.s, to be decomposed by time and the elements. The hideous detail of the scene is not visible to the spectators, but the reappearance of these terrible birds of prey upon the walls, an hour later, in a gorged condition, is only too significant of what has transpired within the silent and gloomy inclosure.

During a subsequent early-morning walk the writer observed a funeral procession on its way towards Malabar Hill, and followed it to the Towers. For a moment after arriving there the face of the corpse was exposed, showing the marble features of a young girl of some fifteen years, wearing upon her pale face an expression of seraphic loveliness.

The body was covered with a snow-white sheet, exhibiting the outline of a beautiful, budding form suddenly s.n.a.t.c.hed from life. Over and around the body were white buds and half-blown pale flowers, indicative of youth, recalling to mind a similar experience on the banks of the Ganges. There was no apparent want of sentiment and tenderness here. As soon as the brief ceremony was over the beautiful remains, lovely even in death, were deposited in the nearest tower, the door was closed and the bearers retired. Down swooped the ravenous birds to their terrible banquet, as we turned away with a shudder. The devouring flames that wreathed about the child-corpse at Benares did not seem to us so shocking as this.

Seeing an intelligent Pa.r.s.ee, who had evidently been watching us, we asked: "How can you reconcile to your feelings such disposal as that of the remains of a tenderly beloved child?" "What do you do with your dead?" he asked. "We bury them in the earth." "Yes," he continued, "for the worms to eat. And if there is death at sea you sink the body in the ocean to be consumed by the sharks. We prefer to give our dead to the birds of the air." We were certainly answered, though not convinced, as to the propriety of the awful scene just enacted. Perhaps, after all, it makes but little difference what becomes of these tenements of clay. The Pa.r.s.ee feeds the vultures with his dead, the devout Hindoo burns the body, and the professed Christian gives his to the worms and to the sharks. Still as we came down Malabar Hill that morning, and saw the hideous carrion birds, gorged and sleepy, roosting upon the walls of the cemetery, a sense of nausea came over us quite uncontrollable.

Bombay is made up of fine public buildings, sumptuous bungalows, and low hovels, not absolutely combined, each cla.s.s being found in cl.u.s.ters about its special locality, but all going to make up the aggregate figure of the population. That the numbers should reach the round total of a million of people was a surprise. In the European cities we see the palace and the hovel, wealth and poverty, everywhere jostling each other. In Florence, Rome, or Naples a half-starved cobbler's stall may nestle beneath a palace, or a vendor of roast chestnuts may have established himself there. In Bombay a sense of propriety and fitness has a.s.sorted and adjusted these matters. Still poverty and riches are never far apart in the world, even as joy and grief are inevitable neighbors. There cannot be strong light without shade near at hand.

Excellent order and neatness are maintained, and well-disciplined policemen are seen at every corner. The munic.i.p.ality is partly elective and partly nominative, the majority of the officials being of native birth, and so far as a casual visitor may judge, affairs are managed economically and judiciously. In the neighborhood of Elphinstone Circle and the Esplanade, the city will compare favorably with any modern European capital, both in the size and style of the public and private buildings, as well as in the broad, liberal squares and thoroughfares, ornamented with statuary and fountains.

A drive in the environs of Bombay, around the base of Malabar Hill and along the picturesque sh.o.r.e of the Arabian Sea, is an experience never to be forgotten by one who has enjoyed its pleasure. It will be sure to recall to the traveler the almost unrivaled environs of Genoa, with those winding, rock-cut roads overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Here the roads are admirable, cool, and half-embowered in foliage, amid which the crimson sagittaria, flaunting its fiery leaves and ponderous blossoms everywhere, meets the eye. About the fine villas, which are set back a short distance from the road, delightful gardens were to be seen of choice flowers, tastefully arranged, comprising an abundance of tropical plants, tall palms lining the drive-way up to the houses where the merchant princes dwell. The broad public roads were lined with oleanders, magnolias, laburnums, jasmines, orange and lemon-trees; and there were honeysuckles, white, scarlet, yellow; and tiger-lilies of marvelous size, each leaf looking as if it were a b.u.t.terfly, and the whole flower forming a group of them lit upon a stem. Urns, from which drooped variegated flowers, relieved by wreathing smilax, ornamented the posts of gates, and lined the smooth, white graveled paths about the verandas of these suburban palaces in miniature. The flora of our best kept green-houses here bloomed out of doors in wild luxuriance, but not a familiar tree was to be seen. In place of elms, maples, pines, and oaks, there were tall, slender palms, fig-trees, mangoes, and whole groves of bananas bending under the weight of the long, finger-like fruit. Verily, these Pa.r.s.ees, in spite of their bigotry and their adherence to ancient superst.i.tions, know how to make their homes beautiful.

There was one inst.i.tution visited in Bombay which is, so far as we know, unique, commending itself however, to every philanthropist, namely, An Asylum for Aged and Decrepit Animals. Here were found birds and beasts suffering under various afflictions, carefully tended and nursed as human beings are in a well-regulated hospital. The origin of the establishment was due to a philanthropic native who some years ago left a large sum of money, on his decease, for this purpose, so thoroughly in accordance with his religious convictions. Within the last ten years several liberal endowments have been added, all by natives, until the inst.i.tution is now self-supporting. We were told of a new bequest, just added, which would enable the trustees to enlarge certain premises.

Liberal visitors are also frequently inclined to leave a few dollars to encourage so worthy an inst.i.tution. Bullocks, cows, dogs, and cats, otherwise homeless, here find good care, food, and shelter. The yard and buildings cover about two acres of ground, where the animals are only so far confined as to insure their own comfort and safety. None of them are ever killed, but are well cared for until Nature herself closes the scene for them. One horse, which we noticed, was swung by belly straps so that his hind feet were quite off the floor; a case, as was explained, where one of his hind legs had been broken, but which had now so nearly healed that the animal would be able to stand once more upon his feet--not to work, but to live out his allotted days in peace. In America, or indeed nearly anywhere else, a horse with a broken leg is at once deprived of life. All through the East, but especially in India, there is, as a rule, a kind consideration for animals that is in marked contrast to the treatment they so often receive in what we term more civilized countries. Under the plea of humanity we take the life of most ailing animals in the Western world, but not so in Bombay. Horses, donkeys, cows, cats, dogs, and monkeys, sick or injured by accident, will be at once taken into this establishment, on application, and kindly cared for, free of all expense, until natural death ensues.

A visit to the Island of Elephanta, in the outer harbor of Bombay, situated about ten miles from the city, will afford all strangers much gratification. A small excursion steamer, tug-boat size, was chartered for our purpose, and with a favoring current took us down to the island in an hour, but was twice as long in working her way back against the tide. It was quite a picnic affair, our refreshments being taken with us from the hotel, and a nice table spread on board the little boat, where we lunched with that best of sauce, a good appet.i.te. This famous island is about six miles in circ.u.mference, covered with a thick undergrowth of bushes and some fine specimens of tropical trees. It derives its name from a colossal stone elephant which once stood near the present landing, and formed a conspicuous object visible far away. This monument was thrown down many years ago by some convulsion of nature, and now lies overgrown by vines and bushes, hidden beneath tamarind and banana-trees. As the sh.o.r.e is shelving, the depth of water will not permit boats to approach very near; so that the landing is made over a series of large, deep-sunken stepping-stones, rather slippery and dangerous for one without a cool head. After having landed there is still nearly a thousand irregular steps to ascend before reaching the plateau, where the mouth of the famous temple is entered.

We found this cave temple with its front half hidden by a wild growth of luxuriant vines and foliage. The cavity is hewn out of the solid rock, extending nearly two hundred feet directly into the hill-side. It was strange and incongruous in aspect,--a sort of conglomeration of sensualism, religious ideas, and Buddhist idols. Most of the school geographies of our childhood depict this entrance of the Cave of Elephanta, supported by carved pillars, hewn out of the rock just where they stand, part and parcel of it. The roof is supported by many carved pillars, also similarly hewn out of the native stone. Some of them have been willfully broken, others have mouldered away from atmospheric exposure. The Portuguese in their day, as we were told by the custodian,--a superannuated non-commissioned officer of the English army,--planted cannon before the cave and destroyed many of the pillars, as well as the heathen emblems, by round shot. One sees here the singular phenomenon of hanging pillars, the capitals only extant; but as the whole is carved out of the same huge rock all parts are equally self-supporting. There are many well-executed figures in bas-relief, more or less decayed and broken, which is not surprising when we remember that the antiquarians trace them back with certainty for some fifteen centuries, and some give their origin to a period nearly ten centuries earlier.

Though embodying so much that is curious and suggestive as these rock-cave temples do, presenting such an aggregate of patient labor, the world will probably remain ever ignorant of their true history. An American traveler, whom we met in Bombay, had made these Buddhist temples a special study, and had just returned from a visit to those interesting antiquities, the Caves of Ellora, some two hundred miles from Bombay, consisting of several lofty apartments ornamented in a similar manner to those at Elephanta: in bas-relief. He also mentioned another excavated temple of the same character at Carlee, between Bombay and Puna, which in many respects resembled a Gothic church, having a vaulted roof and colonnades running on either side, like aisles. He was disposed to give the origin of them, as well as of those in the harbor of Bombay, to a period prior to the Christian era. However strange and historically interesting these excavated temples may be to the observant traveler, he will look in vain among the carvings and ba.s.so-relievi for any just proportions of form or expression of features. There is a lack of anything like artistic genius evinced, no correctness of anatomical proportions even attempted. The figures doubtless were sufficiently typical to answer their original purpose, but are as crude as Chinese idols. When the Prince of Wales was in Bombay he visited the spot and a sort of barbecue was given to him within the cave, upon which the stony eyes of the idols must have looked down in amazement.

Elephanta is also unique in the production of a species of beetle remarkable for variety of colors and ornamentation of body. We had seen numerous specimens of this insect in southern India and at Singapore, some of which were an inch long, but these of Elephanta were not remarkable for size. They were hardly larger than one's little finger nail, but of such brilliancy of color, red, blue, yellow, and pink, as to cause them to resemble precious stones rather than insects. Some were a complete representative of the opal, with all its radiating fire. Some were spotted like b.u.t.terflies, others like the expanded tail of the peac.o.c.k, and again some had half circles of alternate colors like the eyes in a pearl oyster. We were told that only upon this island were such specimens to be found. Children gathered them, and filled little wooden boxes with various specimens, which they sold for a trifle. The harbor of Bombay is a s.p.a.cious and excellent one. The old fortifications have gone mostly to decay, but two floating monitors, the Abyssinia and the Magdala, now form the princ.i.p.al defense of the port. The city, unlike most commercial ports, is not situated on a river, but is one of a cl.u.s.ter of islands connected with the main-land by causeways and railroad viaducts, turning it into a peninsula.

The fish-market is remarkable here for the variety and excellence of the finny tribe offered for sale. The fish-market of Havana has ever been famous for the size, color, and shapes of the specimens it shows upon its broad marble tables, but Bombay rivals the Cuban capital in this respect. Fish forms a large portion of the substantial sustenance of the common people. The fish-women, those who sell the article in the market, are curious, swarthy creatures, covered with bangles on wrists, ankles, arms, ears, and noses. An East Indian woman seems to find vast satisfaction in this style of disfigurement. To see and to eat prawns in their perfection, three or four inches long, one must visit Bombay, where they create handsome bits of scarlet color piled up amid the silver and gold scaled fishes upon the white marble. The fruit-market is equally remarkable for variety and lusciousness. Mandarins, oranges, lemons, mangoes, grapes, bananas, cocoanuts, rose-apples, and vegetables too numerous to mention, load the tempting counters. One of the dealers, a young woman who would have been pretty if not so bedecked, had perforated each side of her nostrils and wore in the holes small gilt b.u.t.tons,--this in addition to bangles innumerable, and ornaments dragging her ears quite out of shape. Her swarthy brown limbs were covered to above the calf with rings of silver and gilt, and her arms were similarly decked. Part of her bosom was tattooed with blue and red ink. This woman pressed a mango upon us at a trifling cost, but not having been educated up to liking this fruit, it was bestowed upon the first child we met. The Indian mango tastes like turpentine and musk mixed, only more so.

The last scene witnessed at Bombay, as we were waiting on the pier for the steam-launch which was to take us on board the P. and O. steamship Kashgar, was the performance of some street jugglers. We had seen many such exhibitions at Delhi, Agra, Madras, and Benares, but these fellows seemed to be more expert in their tricks, and yet not superior or even equal to many prestidigitateurs whom we have seen in America. The doings of these Indian jugglers are more curious in the stories of travelers than when witnessed upon the spot. The so-often-described trick of making a dwarf mango-tree grow up from the seed before one's eyes to a condition of fruit-bearing, in an incredibly short period of time, is very common with them, but is really the merest sleight-of-hand affair, by no means the best of their performances. A Signor Blitz or Hermann would put the most expert of these Indian jugglers to shame in his own art. The performers on this occasion were particularly expert in swallowing knife blades, and thrusting swords down their throats; but it was difficult to get up much enthusiasm among the idle crowd that gathered upon the pier to watch them, and the few pennies which the performers realized could hardly be remunerative.

We prepared for our departure from India with feelings of regret at not being able longer to study its visible history, and to travel longer within its borders. Nearly a month and a half had pa.s.sed since we landed in the country of the Hindoo and the Mohammedan, the land of palms and palaces, of paG.o.das and temples. Its remarkable scenes and monuments will never be forgotten, and with j.a.pan will ever share our warmest interest. There are some memories which, like wine, grow mellow and sweet by time, no distance being able to obliterate them, nor any after-experience to lessen their charm. India has a record running back through thousands of years and remotest dynasties, captivating the fancy with numberless ruins, which, while at attesting the splendor of their prime, form also the only record of their history. The mosaic character of its population, the peculiarities of its animal kingdom, the luxuriance of its vegetation, the dazzling beauty of its birds and flowers, all crowd upon the memory in charming kaleidoscopic combinations. There can be no doubt of the early grandeur and high civilization of India. To the intellectual eminence of her people we owe the germs of science, philosophy, law, and astronomy. Her most perfect of all tongues, the Sanskrit, has been the parent of nearly all others; and now that her l.u.s.tre has faded away, and her children fallen into a condition of sloth and superst.i.tion, still let us do her historic justice; nor should we neglect to heed the lesson she so clearly presents, namely, that nations, like human beings, are subject to the unvarying laws of mutability.

We embarked from Bombay, February 9th, on board the P. and O. steamship Kashgar for Suez, a voyage of three thousand miles across the Sea of Arabia and the Indian Ocean, through the Straits of Babelmandeb and the entire length of the Red Sea. The most southerly point of the voyage took us within fourteen degrees of the equator, and consequently into an extremely warm temperature. As the ship's cabin proved to be almost insupportable on account of the heat, we pa.s.sed a large portion of the nights, as well as the days, upon deck, making acquaintance with the stars, looking down from their serene and silent s.p.a.ces, the new moon, and the Southern Cross, all of which were wonderfully bright in the clear, dry atmosphere. As we approach the equatorial region one cannot but admire the increasing and wondrous beauty of the southern skies, where new and striking constellations greet the observer. The Southern Cross, above all other groupings, interests the beholder, and he ceases to wonder at the reverence with which the inhabitants of the low lat.i.tudes regard it. As an accurate measurer of time, it is also valued by the mariner in the southern hemisphere, who is nightly called to watch on deck, and who thus becomes familiar with the glowing orbs revealed by the surrounding darkness. As a Christian emblem all southern nations bow before this constellation which is denied to northern eyes.

Bishop F----, of the Methodist Episcopal Church of Ma.s.sachusetts, was a pa.s.senger on board the Kashgar, bound to Egypt, and on Sunday, February 11th, after the captain had read the usual services, he was invited to address the pa.s.sengers; this he did in an eloquent and impressive discourse. It was a calm, beautiful Sabbath, a sweet tranquillity enshrouding everything. The ship glided over the gently throbbing breast of the Arabian Sea with scarcely perceptible motion; and when night came, the stillness yet unbroken, save by the pulsation of the great motive power hidden in the dark hull of the Kashgar, the bishop delivered a lecture on astronomy. He stood on the quarter-deck, bare-headed, his snow-white hair crowning a brow radiant with intellect, while the attentive pa.s.sengers were seated around, and over his head glowed the wondrous...o...b.. of which he discoursed. Naturally eloquent, the speaker seemed inspired by the peculiar surroundings, as he pointed out and dilated upon the glorious constellations and planets blazing in the blue vault above us. He explained the immensity of these individual worlds, the harmonious system which science shows to exist in their several spheres, the almost incalculable distance between them, as related to each other and as it regarded this earth. The sun, the moon, and the rotation of the globe, all were learnedly expatiated upon, and yet in language so eloquent and simple as to inform the least intelligent of his listeners. Finally, in his peroration, in touchingly beautiful language, he ascribed the power, the glory, and the harmony of all to that Almighty Being who is the Parent of our race.

The good ship held steadily on her southwest course, day after day, lightly fanned by the northeast monsoon towards the mouth of the Red Sea. Our time was pa.s.sed in reading aloud to each other, and in rehearsing the experience of the last six months. We were very dreamy, very idle, but it was sacred idleness, full of pleasant thoughts, and half-waking visions induced by tropical languor, full of grat.i.tude for life and being amid such tranquillity, and beneath skies so glowing with beauty and loveliness. At the end of the sixth day we cast anchor at the island, or rather peninsula, of Aden, a rocky, isolated spot held by English troops, to command the entrance to the Red Sea,--very properly called the Gibraltar of the Indian Ocean. Like that famous promontory it was originally little more than a barren rock,--pumice-stone and lava,--which has been improved into a picturesque and habitable place, bristling with one hundred British cannon of heavy calibre. It is a spot much dreaded by sailors, the straits being half closed by sunken rocks, besides which the sh.o.r.e is considered the most unhealthy yet selected by civilized man as a residence.

The town of Aden lies some distance from the sh.o.r.e where the landing is made, in the very centre of an extinct volcano, the sides of which have fallen in and form its foundation, affording, as may reasonably be supposed, an opportunity for yet another calamity like that which so lately visited Ischia, and which swallowed up Casamicciola. As we pa.s.sed in from the open sea to the harbor of Aden, the tall masts of a steamship, wrecked here very lately, were still visible above the long, heavy swell of the ocean. The name of these straits, Babelmandeb, given to them by the Arabs, signifies the "Gate of Tears," because of the number of vessels which have been wrecked in an attempt to pa.s.s through them; and the t.i.tle is no less applicable to our time than when they were first named. There is a saying among seamen, that for six months of the year no vessel under canvas can enter the Red Sea, and, for the other six months, no sailing vessel can get out. This refers to the regularity with which the winds blow here, for six months together. Aden lies within the rainless zone, so that its inhabitants see no rain-fall sometimes for two or three years together, depending for their water on wells, tanks, and condensers. The remains of an ancient and magnificent system of reservoirs, antedating the Christian era, and hewn out of the solid rock, have been discovered, whereby the early inhabitants were accustomed to lay in a supply of the aqueous fluid when it did rain, which would last them for a long period of months. Following out the original idea, these stone reservoirs have been thoroughly repaired, and the present inhabitants now lay up water in large quant.i.ties when the welcome rain visits them.

As we lay at anchor just off the sh.o.r.e at Aden, the ship was surrounded by a score of small boats, dugout canoes, in which were boys as black as Nubians, with shining white teeth and curly heads, watching us with bright, expressive eyes. Such heads of hair we never chanced to meet with before. Evidently dyed red by some means, the hair is twisted into vertical curls of oddest appearance. The little fellows, each in his own canoe, varied in age from ten to fifteen years. By eloquent gestures and the use of a few English words, they begged the pa.s.sengers on board the Kashgar to throw small coin into the sea, for which they would dive in water that was at least seven fathoms deep, that is, say forty feet. The instant a piece of money was thrown, every canoe was emptied, and twenty human beings disappeared from sight like a flash. Down, down go the divers to the very bottom, and there struggle together for the trifle, some one of the throng being sure to rise to the surface with the coin displayed between his teeth. They struggle, wrestle, and fight beneath the surface, and when the water is clear can be seen, like the amphibious creatures which these sh.o.r.e-born tribes really are; nothing but otters and seals could be keener sighted or more expert in the water.

Quite a number of natives came on board the ship with curiosities to sell, such as choice sh.e.l.ls, toys, leopard skins, and ostrich feathers.

There are plenty of these birds running wild but a little way inland, and some are kept in domestic confinement on account of the feathers which they yield; but the tame birds do not develop such fine plumage as do the wild ones. The ladies purchased choice specimens of these elegant ornaments at prices ridiculously low compared with the charge for such in Europe or America. The men who sold these feathers differed from the other natives, and were evidently Syrian Jews, queer looking fellows, small in stature, dark as Arabs, and with their hair dressed in cork-screw curls. These small traders commenced by demanding guineas for their feathers, and ended by taking shillings. Notwithstanding the barren aspect of the surrounding country, Aden manages to do something in the way of exports. Coffee is produced, not far inland, as well as honey, wax, and gums, with some spices, which are shipped to Europe.

It was just about twilight when we got up the anchor, and steamed away from Aden; and as the evening set in a bevy of birds were singularly attracted to the Kashgar. They were quite as much land as water-birds, and were fully twice as large as robins, of a mingled white and slate color. So persistent were these birds, and being perhaps a little confused by the surrounding darkness, together with the blinding lights of the ship, that they permitted themselves to be caught and handled.

When thrown into the air they immediately returned, to light on the bulwarks, shrouds, deck, or awnings, in fact, anywhere affording foothold. Scores of them roosted all night on the Kashgar; but with the first break of morning light they shook their feathers briskly for a moment, uttered a few harsh, croaking notes, as a sort of rough thanks for their night's lodging, and sailed away to the Abyssinian sh.o.r.e.

The general appearance of Aden from the sea, though picturesque, is not inviting, giving one an idea of great barrenness. The mountains and rocks have a peaked aspect, like a spear pointed at one, as much as to say "Better keep off." People who land for the first time, however, are agreeably disappointed by finding that every opportunity for encouraging vegetation and imparting its cheerful effect to the rocky soil has been duly improved. When we bid Aden good-by in the after-glow of sunset, the sea on the harbor side was of a deep azure, while in the direction of the ocean it stretched away to the horizon in a soft, pale green. This effect, added to the lingering orange hue in the west, and the sober gray of the rocky promontory itself, made up a pleasing variety of color.

Our course was now nearly north, leaving behind us the island of Prim as well as Aden, the former being also a British stronghold at the mouth of this inland sea, close to the Arabian coast, and less than ten miles from the African sh.o.r.e, which facts will show the reader how narrow is the southern entrance of the Red Sea. The bold headlands of Abyssinia were long visible on our port side, while on the starboard we had a distant view of Arabia with the Libyan range of mountains in the background, forming the boundary of the desert of the same name. Jeddah, the sea-port of Mecca, the resort of all pious Mohammedans, and Mocha, with its bright sunlit minarets, the place so suggestive of good coffee, were to be seen in the distance. In coasting along the sh.o.r.es of Nubia, the dense air from off the land was like a sirocco, suffocatingly hot, the effect being more enervating than that of any previous experience of the journey. Here the water was observed to be much saltier to the taste than that of the open sea, a fact easily accounted for, as it is subject to the fierce tropical sun, and the consequent rapid evaporation leaves the saline property in aggregated proportions at the surface. This is a phenomenon generally observable in land-locked arms of the ocean similarly situated: the Persian Gulf being another instance. The free circulation of ocean-currents, as well as the heavy rain-falls of other tropical regions, renders the conditions more uniform. As we sailed through the Gulf of Suez we had the sh.o.r.es of Egypt on both sides of us.

The last day on board the Kashgar was characterized by one of those blazing sunsets that set everything aglow, making it appear as though the world had taken fire at the horizon and was actually burning up.

Before arriving at Aden it was discovered that one of the foremast hands of the ship was quite ill with small-pox, a very annoying thing to happen under the circ.u.mstances. There were some thirty or forty cabin pa.s.sengers on board, and of course serious fears as to contagion were entertained. Our small party, having already run the gauntlet of both cholera and small-pox, took the matter very quietly, though we had before us a five or six days' voyage to consummate before we could hope to land. The sick man was placed in one of the large life-boats on the port bow, which had a broad canvas nicely rigged over it, and in this small, improvised hospital was personally attended by the ship's doctor alone, who in turn isolated himself from the pa.s.sengers. It was feared that we might be quarantined upon arriving at Suez: but either by management or accident, we arrived late at night and got moored at the dock before any questions were asked. Selfishness and gravitation are both immutable. We are quite satisfied to look out for the interests of number one, and must confess that we know not to this day whether the poor fellow, who lay so sick in the port boat, lived or died.

A modest effort to ascertain why this great arm of the Indian Ocean is called the Red Sea was not crowned with success. The Black Sea is not black, the Blue Danube is not blue, the Red Sea is not red. It extends between Africa and Arabia nearly fifteen hundred miles, and in the broadest part is not over two hundred miles across, gradually contracting at each end. Portions of it are a thousand fathoms deep, but the sh.o.r.es on either side are lined with a net-work of coral reefs and sunken rocks extending well out from the coast. It was observed that the Kashgar for the most part kept nearly in the middle of the sea. Small Arabian vessels hug the sh.o.r.e, as their captains are familiar with the soundings and can safely do so, and yet they never navigate by night nor go out of port when the weather is in the least threatening. They make no attempt to cross the sea except in settled weather, and are what we should call fresh-water sailors, only venturing out when a naked candle will burn on the forecastle. European sailing vessels rarely attempt to navigate the Red Sea; it is too intricate, and the chances too hazardous for anything but steam power to encounter. The color of the sea, so far from being red, is deeply blue, and where it becomes shoal changes to a pale green; but the color of all large expanses of water is constantly changing from various causes. The reflection of the clouds will turn its blue to a dark indigo tint, and even to inky blackness. Experienced seamen, foremast hands, who have no access to the charts, will tell by the color of the water, after a long voyage, that the land is near at hand; the clear transparent blue becomes an olive green, and as the water grows more shallow it grows also lighter.