{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_27886/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_27886","id":"gutenberg_27886","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27886","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Archaeology & Anthropology","Category: History - Other","Category: Religion/Spirituality","India","India -- Social life and customs"],"text":"Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Juliet Sutherland, and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                    [Illustration: FELIX TIPNIS.]\n\n\n                            INDIA AND THE\n\n                               INDIANS\n\n\n\n                          BY EDWARD F. ELWIN\n\n           OF THE SOCIETY OF ST JOHN THE EVANGELIST, COWLEY\n\n   AUTHOR OF \"INDIAN JOTTINGS,\" \"THIRTY-FOUR YEARS IN POONA CITY,\"\n                    \"STORIES OF INDIAN BOYS,\" ETC.\n\n\n\n\n                          WITH ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                                LONDON\n\n                  JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.\n\n                                 1913\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nIndia is really waking up, but she is doing so in her own Indian way.\nFor some years past it has been one of my daily duties to arouse an\nIndian boy, and I know exactly how an Indian wakes. It is a leisurely\nprocess. He slowly stretches his legs and rubs his eyes, and it is at\nleast ten minutes before he can be said to be really wide awake. And\nevery morning I have to say exactly the same thing: \"Now remember,\nFelix, to say your prayers; then go and wash your hands and face, and\nthen feed the pony.\" And if on any particular morning I were to leave\nthis reminder unsaid, and Felix left any, or all of these duties,\nundone, and I were to ask him the reason, he would reply, \"You did not\ntell me.\"\n\nWith India waking up, there never was a time when she stands more in\nneed of some kindly person at her side to tell her what to do. She\nneeds to be taught to say her prayers, because with the old religion\ngone and the True Faith dimly understood, India would be in the\nappalling condition of a great country without a religion. We need to\ntell her to wash her hands and face, because there are certain\nelementary matters of sanitation which must be attended to if India is\never to become a wholesome and prosperous country. And we have got to\nteach her how to work, because India wide awake, but idle, might\neasily become a source of great mischief.\n\nEvery Englishman who takes pleasure in the sense of Empire ought to\nrealise that it brings with it great responsibilities, and therefore\nthat every Englishman has a measure of responsibility towards India.\nWe must be taking care that, if when she is wide awake she fails to\nfulfil her great vocation, at any rate she shall have no cause to\nutter against us the reproach, You never told me.\n\nA better understanding of what India and the people who live in it are\nreally like, seems to be the necessary preparation for sympathy and\nwork of any sort connected with that country; and to help, in however\nsmall a degree, to bring about this end is the object of this book. I\nhave had unusually favourable and varied opportunities for getting to\nknow intimately the inner side of Indian life and character during a\nsomewhat long residence in this country. The contents of the book are\nexceedingly miscellaneous because the daily experiences have been\nequally so. Everything that is told is the outcome of my own personal\nobservations amongst a people to whom I am deeply attached, and I have\ntaken the utmost pains to record nothing of which I was not sure, and\nto verify everything concerning which I was doubtful.\n\nThe photographs were all taken by Brother Arthur of our Society.\n\nEDWARD F. ELWIN.\n\nYERANDAWANA,\n\nPOONA DISTRICT, INDIA.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nCHAP.                                                 PAGE\n\nI.        INTRODUCTORY                                  1\n\nII.       INDIAN HOSPITALITY                           11\n\nIII.      THE INDIAN VIEW OF NATURE AND ARCHITECTURE   17\n\nIV.       INDIAN EMPLOYEES OF LABOUR                   24\n\nV.        THE INDIAN POSTAL SERVICE                    32\n\nVI.       INDIANS AND ENGLISH CUSTOMS                  40\n\nVII.      INDIAN UNPUNCTUALITY                         48\n\nVIII.     INDIAN POVERTY                               54\n\nIX.       INDIAN ART                                   60\n\nX.        THE INDIAN VILLAGE                           66\n\nXI.       INDIAN ENTERTAINMENTS                        74\n\nXII.      THE CONVERSION OF INDIA                      83\n\nXIII.     MISSION WORK IN INDIA                        89\n\nXIV.      INDIAN MUSIC                                 98\n\nXV.       INDIAN MEALS                                105\n\nXVI.      HINDU PHILOSOPHY                            111\n\nXVII.     HINDUS AND RELIGION                         117\n\nXVIII.    RELIGIOUS PHASES IN INDIA                   124\n\nXIX.      GAMES IN INDIA                              130\n\nXX.       INDIAN WRESTLERS                            137\n\nXXI.      BOOKS IN INDIA                              143\n\nXXII.     INDIAN PAGEANTS                             151\n\nXXIII.    THE INDIAN CHARACTER                        157\n\nXXIV.     RELIGIOUS CONTROVERSY IN INDIA              164\n\nXXV.      WILD BEASTS IN INDIA                        170\n\nXXVI.     SOME INDIAN ANIMALS                         176\n\nXXVII.    THE INDIAN WORLD OF NATURE                  182\n\nXXVIII.   INSECTS IN INDIA                            188\n\nXXIX.     THE INDIAN ASCETIC                          196\n\nXXX.      THE INDIAN WIDOW                            204\n\nXXXI.     WRONGDOING IN INDIA                         212\n\nXXXII.    PROPERTY IN INDIA                           221\n\nXXXIII.   EAST AND WEST TRAVELLING                    228\n\nXXXIV.    CUSTOMS OF EAST AND WEST                    234\n\nXXXV.     SERVANTS IN INDIA                           241\n\nXXXVI.    THE EDUCATED HINDU                          247\n\nXXXVII.   UNFINISHED PLANS IN INDIA                   256\n\nXXXVIII.  GIFTS IN INDIA                              263\n\nXXXIX.    PROVERBIAL SAYINGS ABOUT INDIA              270\n\nXL.       INDIAN UNREST                               278\n\nXLI.      THE ENGLISH IN INDIA                        288\n\nXLII.     DISHONESTY IN INDIA                         295\n\nXLIII.    INDIAN MOHAMMEDANS                          302\n\nXLIV.     NIGHT ALARMS IN INDIA                       309\n\nXLV.      THE INDIAN WASHERMAN                        317\n\nXLVI.     AGRICULTURE IN INDIA                        328\n\nXLVII.    EAST AND WEST ON BOARD SHIP                 337\n\n          INDEX                                       347\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\nFELIX TIPNIS                                        _Frontispiece_\n\nSWITHUN'S NEW HOME IN THE VILLAGE             _To face page 16_\n\nYERANDAWANA CHURCH FROM A DISTANCE                  \"       20\n\nTHE INDIAN VILLAGE POSTMAN                          \"       38\n\nNARAYEN KHILARI, A FARMER'S SON                     \"       42\n\nTHE KINDLY HINDU NEIGHBOUR AND HIS FAMILY           \"       48\n\nA MODERN HOUSE IN POONA CITY                        \"       60\n\nMRS SALOME ZADHAW                                   \"       66\n\nRAGU, THE NIGHT-WATCHMAN                            \"       72\n\nTHE YERANDAWANA VILLAGE WRESTLERS                   \"      138\n\nNIRARI BHOSLE, THE MISCHIEVOUS VILLAGE BOY          \"      168\n\nMILKING THE BUFFALO                                 \"      180\n\nDOWD PHERIDE, THE EGG-MERCHANT'S SON                \"      198\n\nSARLA KALU, THE YERANDAWANA WIDOW                   \"      206\n\nTHE INDIAN BUTLER                                   \"      242\n\nTHE CEMETERY CROSS                                  \"      268\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nINDIA AND THE INDIANS\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nINTRODUCTORY\n\n     Misconceptions about India. Hinduism. An \"infernal\n     religion.\" Hindu mythology. Ascetics. Translations of Hindu\n     sacred books. Modern and ancient ways of teaching\n     Christianity. Danger of the incorporation of a false Christ\n     into Hinduism. Hindu India as it really is. Definitions of\n     \"What is Hinduism?\" from representative Hindus.\n\n\nIndia is not really quite so mysterious a country as it appears to be\non first acquaintance. But you have to live there a long time before\nthings begin to reveal their real shape. It is only on the ground of\nlong residence, and frequent and often close intercourse with a great\nvariety of Indians, that I venture now and then to give some of my\nexperiences to others. India remains almost an unknown land to a large\nnumber of people in spite of all that has been written or spoken about\nit, and it is hard to dissipate the many misconceptions which exist\nconcerning the country. Some of these misconceptions came into being\nyears ago, but they have become stereotyped. They were presumably the\noutcome of hasty conclusions drawn from superficial knowledge. But\neven visitors to India often view the country in the light of\npreconceived ideas which they have either heard or read of, and they\ntherefore fail to see things as they really are.\n\nIt is inevitable in dealing with Indian things that the defects of the\npeople of the country should occupy rather a prominent place. The\ncause is their misfortune and not their fault. They have many\ndelightful natural characteristics, and the years that I have lived\namongst them have only served to increase my deep affection for the\npeople of India, and the real pleasure that I find in their society.\nThe defects of Hindus come from their religion, which is deeply\nsteeped in idolatry, and neither gives them a code of morality, nor\ngrace to keep one if it had been given. The strongest denunciations of\nHinduism come from the people themselves. I often repeat what the old\nBrahmin, who lived and died a Hindu, said when he roared out to me,\n\"It is a most infernal religion.\" And he proceeded to give instances\nof its infernal nature which it is impossible to print, but which\njustified the expression.\n\nA Hindu admits the beauty of a moral life, but puts it aside as\nimpossible of fulfilment. He has no creed, and cannot tell you what he\nbelieves. He is in doubt and uncertainty both as regards where man\ncame from, and whither he is going. Nearly every Hindu is an idolater\nat some time or other, if only to please his wife, or to oblige a\nfriend. Some, nowadays, try to explain away the custom as being merely\nan ancient tradition, but on that account to be respected; or as\nedifying for the ignorant, who cannot find God in any other way.\n\nThe histories of the gods, like all heathen mythology, consist of\ntales, some picturesque, some foolish, some dull and childish, some\nobscene. How far the educated Hindu believes them it is difficult to\nknow. Those that are obviously absurd he will say are allegorical, and\nin spite of their diversity he will maintain that they are all\nmanifestations of one god. The uneducated rustic, so far as he is\nfamiliar with these stories, believes them.\n\nThe ascetic life, at any rate as represented by the professional\nascetics of India, is not held in admiration by the people of the\ncountry. The real character of most of the wandering ascetics is\nperfectly well known. But the people fear their curse; hence they give\nthem alms, and a measure of outward respect. That their profession and\ntheir conduct are so often in contradiction does not apparently excite\nsurprise.\n\nSome English translations of Hindu sacred books must be taken with a\ncertain amount of caution. Enthusiastic and poetically inclined minds\nhave produced translations which can only be said to remotely\nrepresent the originals (if we are to accept the opinion of some who\nare competent to know), into which they have read much more than is\nreally to be found there. Also, terms taken from Christian theology\nhave, of necessity, a much fuller meaning to the minds of Christian\npeople who read them than is to be found in the vernacular expression\nwhich they represent. Short extracts, given without the context, are\nproverbially misleading, according to the individual bias of the\nextractor, either favourable or the reverse.\n\nKindly advisers have been urging lately that missionaries should try\nand discover what is good in Hinduism, and on that foundation\ngradually build up the truths of Christianity. It would be just as\nreasonable to expect to draw sweet water from a bitter spring. The old\nteachers of Christianity in India preached it as a matter of life and\ndeath, as indeed it is, and they made converts from amongst the\neducated men. A Brahmin convert has told me that what impelled him to\ncarry his convictions to their proper conclusion was the belief that\nif he held back he would be lost.\n\nThe apologetic way in which Christianity is sometimes preached at the\npresent day in India, in response to these well-meant but dangerous\npromptings, may possibly lead to the disastrous result of the\nincorporation of a kind of false Christ into Hinduism. Our Lord is\ngreatly admired by a large number of intelligent Hindus. The Bible is\noften quoted by public speakers to illustrate some point in their\nspeech; not always, of course, with accuracy or appropriateness. Now\nand then a Hindu will say that he is a Christian in heart; and that\nbeing so, he pleads to be dispensed from the inconvenient ceremonial\nof baptism, which would separate him from his own people. The laxity\nof many Nonconformists, and some others, concerning baptism, gives him\nsome ground for making this petition.\n\nTo take a measure of Christian morality into Hinduism, to place the\nBible alongside their other sacred books, and to worship Christ along\nwith Krishna, would satisfy modern Hindu aspirations without entailing\nmuch practical inconvenience.\n\nIn trying to describe everyday life in India, we shall at every turn\nmeet with instances of the effect that Hinduism has in warping and\nmarring natures which otherwise have so much which is attractive. But\nthe sole purpose of this book is to try and depict Hindu India as it\nreally is. People will only be stimulated to pray and work for the\ncountry with the energy and fullness of purpose which the case\ndemands, when they have realised that the matter is vital and urgent.\nPeople will understand how greatly Christian Indians need the prayers\nof others when they realise that they have to lead their lives in the\nmidst of evil, inconceivably great, and with the weight of inherited\ntendencies of wrong hindering their efforts to do right. Nor will\ncharitable persons be forgetful to pray for those who have to try and\nshepherd these sheep and lambs, whilst they themselves have to live in\nthe midst of an atmosphere of evil influences, such as those who live\nin Christian countries know little of.\n\nIt is satisfactory and significant to note that one of the most\npronounced of the agitators in favour of teaching Christianity through\nHinduism has become one of the most determined and persuasive\npreachers of pure Christianity, with a corresponding increase of\nfar-reaching and productive influence.\n\nThe following definitions of what is Hinduism from certain leading and\nrepresentative Hindus will be of interest as showing that what has been\nsaid of its nebulous nature is not an exaggeration. The editor of an\nIndian paper called the _Leader_, asked the following question:--\"What\nare the beliefs and practices indispensable in one professing the Hindu\nfaith, as distinguished from what may be called non-essentials, which it\nis left to one's option to believe and to adopt?\"\n\nSome of the answers were quoted in the _Delhi Mission News_, vol. iv.,\np. 108, from which the following extracts are taken. They are slightly\nabridged, but the original sense has been carefully preserved.\n\nSir Guru Das Banerjee, an orthodox Hindu of Bengal, of great ability\nand eminence, says:--\"Owing to the highly tolerant character of\nHinduism and to the great diversity of opinion on the point, it is not\neasy to answer the question with any great degree of definiteness. I\nthink that the beliefs that are generally considered indispensable in\na Hindu are: Belief in God, in a future state, and in the authority of\nthe Vedas. The practices that are generally considered indispensable\nare: The rules prohibiting marriage in a different caste; forbidding\ndining with a person of an inferior caste; and the rule relating to\nforbidden food, especially beef. But courts of justice have gone much\nfurther, and held dissenting sects which have sprung out of the Hindu\ncommunity, such as the Sikhs, to be Hindus, although they do not\nbelieve in the authority of the Vedas and do not observe any\ndistinction of caste. And Hindu society now practically admits within\nits pale all persons who are Hindu by birth, whatever their beliefs\nand practices may be, provided they have not openly abjured Hinduism\nor married outside of Hindu society.\"\n\nMr Satyendra Nath Tagore, another Bengali Hindu, whose family is among\nthe most distinguished in India, writes:--\"There are no dogmas in\nHinduism. You may believe in any doctrine you choose, even in atheism,\nwithout ceasing to be a Hindu. You, as a Hindu, must in theory accept\nthe Vedas as the revealed religion, but you may put your own\ninterpretation on the Vedic texts. This leaves a loophole for you to\nescape from the thraldom of dogmatism. It is the adherence to certain\npractices--rites and ceremonies--that Hinduism imperatively demands.\nChief of these is the system of caste as at present constituted, the\nslightest deviation from which cuts one off from the community. In\ndetermining the question proposed, the text is, What is it that\nentails excommunication of a Hindu? Surely not any specific article of\nbelief, but a deviation from established usages and customs--such, for\ninstance, as the remarriage of widows, etc. Again, non-observance of\nthe prevailing modes of worship, non-observance of idol worship,\nespecially on ceremonial occasions, might entail serious consequences.\nIt is true that certain articles of belief obtain among the large body\nof Hindus, but they are by no means universal or essential to\nHinduism. You may renounce the belief, provided you conform to the\nceremony which is the outcome of such belief. For instance, it will\nnot do to discountenance the practice of making funeral offerings to\ndeceased ancestors, although you have no faith in the immortality of\nthe soul.\"\n\nMr P. T. Srinivas Iyengar is principal of a college in Vizagapatam. He\nwrites:--\"The evolution of religion in India has not provided the\nHindus with any belief or practice common to all who now go by that\nname. The pre-Aryan tribes had their own religious beliefs and\npractices, on which were superimposed those of the Aryans. The Vedic\nage, the post-Vedic times, the Buddhist age, and the age of the\nParanas, have each contributed innumerable ideas and customs. The\nreligion of each one of us contains relics of all these strata, but\nnot one of these can be called essential to the Hindu religion,\nbecause every belief or practice that is considered absolutely\nnecessary by Hindus of one corner of India is unknown or ignored by\nsome other corner. It is true that the various schools of Hindu\nphilosophy agree in regarding a few fundamental ideas as axiomatic,\nbut philosophy is not religion. The Mohammedans are one because they\nhave a common religion and a common law. The Christians are one,\nbecause at least one point of faith is common. But the Hindus have\nneither faith, nor practice, nor law to distinguish them from others.\nI should therefore define a Hindu to be one born in India, whose\nparents so far as people can remember were not foreigners, or did not\nprofess a foreign religion like Mohammedanism or Christianity, and who\nhimself has not embraced such religions.\"\n\nThe last answer, which reads the vaguest of any, is from Mr T.\nSadasivier, who is a Sessions Judge of Ganjam. He writes as\nfollows:--\"One professing the Hindu faith has only to have the\nfollowing belief, namely, that the four Vedas contain moral and\nspiritual truth, which are not less valid than any other spoken or\nwritten words. He might believe in other spoken or written words (like\nthe Bhagavad-gita) as of equal authority with the Vedas, but he ought\nnot, if he is a Hindu, to believe such to be _superior_, so far as\nmoral and religious truth is concerned. Out-castes are Hindus so long\nas they believe the Vedas to contain the highest moral and religious\ntruths. As regards practices, a Hindu ought to follow those he\nbelieves to be in conformity with and not opposed to, the Vedas. He\ncan follow his own conscience and desires in ordinary matters, so long\nas he believes that they are not opposed to the Vedas. Human nature\nbeing liable to sin, even if he contravenes the practices believed by\nhim to be Vedic, if he admits he _ought_ to follow only practices\nenjoined by the Vedas, he is a Hindu, even if he cannot study and read\nthe Vedas. If he believes that the Vedas inculcate certain practices\nfor him and that he ought to follow them, he is and remains a Hindu.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nINDIAN HOSPITALITY\n\n     Hospitality limited by caste rules. Feasts. The Hindu's\n     guest-house. Laws of hospitality; observed by Indian\n     Christians; their generosity to each other. Indian respect\n     for the mother; retained through life; observed by Indian\n     Christians. Swithun's mother. Indian affection shallow,\n     except for the mother.\n\n\nThe peoples of the East are proverbial for their hospitality, and\ncertainly Indians in all parts of their country are true to this\nexcellent tradition, although the caste system of Hindus, which in so\nmany ways hinders their good purposes from producing their legitimate\nresult, restricts their hospitable efforts, within their own dwelling,\nto the sometimes narrow limits of their own particular caste.\nInvitations to members of castes above their own would not be\naccepted. And if, in some cases, a broad-minded Hindu would be not\nunwilling to invite to dinner a friend belonging to a caste lower than\nhis own, his good intentions would be almost certainly checkmated by\nthe ladies of his household, who would refuse to cook for the\nintruder.\n\nRich men give feasts out of doors to a variety of people, who sit in\ngroups according to their caste. Even lepers and beggars are not\nunfrequently fed in this fashion on a large scale by those who are\nwealthy. Such feasts, however, do not come exactly under the laws of\nhospitality, because they are held according to the fancy of the\ngiver. It is practically a matter of obligation to feast people\nbountifully in connection with marriages and deaths and some other\nceremonies.\n\nAny actual breach of the Indian code of hospitality is regarded as a\nserious lapse, and even within the limits of the family and caste, the\nburden of hospitality can become a very heavy one. A well-to-do Hindu\nin Poona city built a new three-storied house in a corner of his large\ncompound. As he had already got a house of apparently ample\ndimensions, I asked him what was the object of this new one. He said\nthat it was for his guests; and he then proceeded to give me a good\ndeal of information concerning Hindu customs connected with\nhospitality.\n\nHe said that guests who come to stay usually arrive without\ninvitation, or previous notice. They are often attended by wife and\nchildren and other relations, and remain for an indefinite time. A\nvisit of even two or three months' duration is quite usual. I asked if\nit was not possible to hint that it was time that the visit came to a\nclose. But he said that to do so would be considered very rude, and a\ngreat breach of hospitality, and that it was never done. People who\nare not well off, often pay these long visits for the sake of the\nfree rations; and, on account of their poverty, it is impossible to\npay them back in their own coin by going to stay a corresponding time\nwith them.\n\nIndian Christians retain strongly these national ideas concerning the\nlaws of hospitality, and are generous in their entertainment of each\nother, even although it means that their monthly supply of grain will\nrun short, and that they will be hard put to it, and have to live on\nshort commons during the last days of the month. People\nholiday-making, or out of work, will forage about in search of free\nmeals, and will drop in here and there just about dinner time without\nmuch thought as to whether their company is welcome or not. Even the\npoorest persons will cheerfully produce all that they have got in\norder to feed these chance comers, with whom perhaps they have only a\nslight acquaintance. Christians are also generous with their money in\nhelping other Christians who are in difficulties, or out of work. Some\nwho may have got good appointments are, nevertheless, often kept poor\nby their efforts to help relations who, on their part, seem to have no\ndelicacy about making urgent demands for assistance. Even mothers will\nprey without compunction on married children who can ill afford to\nrender help.\n\nBut the petition of the mother is never rejected. In Hindu family life\nthe respect and affection which the son has for his mother is a most\ntouching and beautiful characteristic, which only intensifies the\nolder he grows. The Indian boy is often wilful and disobedient and\nrude to his mother, but he makes up for this by his dutiful conduct\nwhen he grows to manhood. It is almost comical to find Hindus of\nmature years referring everything to their mother, and even in small\nmatters of daily life saying that they must ask their mother before\nthey can do this or that. This filial conduct does not arise from fear\nof the maternal wrath, but because of the son's deep respect for his\nmother as such.\n\nMany a Hindu has said to me, when discussing the possibility of\nacceptance of Christianity, \"It would grieve my mother, and I cannot\ndo that.\" When conversions have taken place, the final and most bitter\nstruggle has nearly always been when the lamentations and entreaties\nof the mother had to be faced, and some men have not been able to\nstand this pressure, and have turned back on that ground alone. The\ntears of the wife are of small account compared with the distress of\nthe mother.\n\nIt must be added that the Hindu mother appears to accept the\nconsiderate regard of her sons very much as a matter of course, and\nthat if she looks upon them with equal affection, her manner of\ndisplaying it is, at any rate, different from the English ideal.\n\nHappily Christian boys and men retain much of the same reverential\nfeeling concerning their mother. The Indian equivalent of the English\nparish clerk at the village church at Yerandawana was about to be\nmarried in Bombay, where his bride resided, 120 miles away. His mother\nwas a curious, cross-grained old woman, not yet a Christian. As he had\nnot much money, I suggested that there was no need to take his mother\nto this distant city for the wedding, but that she could be ready to\ngreet the bride at their new home in the village when they returned.\n\nBut Swithun assured me that it was absolutely essential that his\nmother should go with him, and that if he was married without taking\ncare to secure her presence, he would be for ever branded as an\nundutiful son. She was not at all grateful for his kind consideration,\nand made herself very disagreeable all through the wedding-day, but\nthe guests treated her with a good deal of respect and regard solely\non the score of her being the bride-groom's mother, and on that\naccount a person to be honoured.\n\nIndian affection is quite real as far as it goes, but it does not go\nvery deep, so that it does not long outlive the removal of the object\nof regard, either through death or any other cause. Nor will Indian\naffection bear much strain. Petty complications in family life,\ntrivial misunderstandings between friends of long standing, or amongst\nChristians some little hitch with the authorities of a mission, will\nsometimes result in life-long separations or bitter animosity between\nthose who, for the time being, were objects of real, but shallow,\naffection. But the Indian puts up with anything rather than quarrel\nwith his mother, and her memory remains fresh and green long after\nother departed relations and friends have been lost in oblivion.\n\n[Illustration: SWITHUN'S \"NEW HOME IN THE VILLAGE.\"]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE INDIAN VIEW OF NATURE AND ARCHITECTURE\n\n     Indians oblivious to scenery. The beauties of Nature.\n     Results of learning drawing. Hindus' offerings of flowers;\n     their garlands. Pictures of flowers. The new village church\n     attracts; impressed by its interior; schoolboys visit it.\n     Visitors from the Hindu college. A party from the Widows'\n     Home. Brahmin ladies admire the embroidery. The \"religious\n     bath.\"\n\n\nAlmost all Indians are apparently oblivious to beautiful scenery. You\nrarely see them looking at a gorgeous sunset, or hear them speak about\nit. You will seldom hear them make any reference to the beauty or\notherwise of their surroundings. As they travel along the road you\nwill not see them looking round about them. Some passengers gaze\nlistlessly out of the windows of the train, but to all appearance\nwithout much interest, except at stations where there is a crowd on\nthe platform. Even the buildings or shop windows of a city only\nattract a languid amount of attention; but a street quarrel, or a war\nof words between two excited females, will soon draw a large crowd.\n\nThe brightness of the moon and the glory of the stars, astonishingly\nbrilliant as they are when seen through the clear Indian atmosphere,\ndoes not seem to excite admiration, in spite of the divine attributes\nwhich Hindus ascribe to such objects. Even ordinary secular education\ndoes not do much to stimulate appreciation of the beauties in Nature.\nChristianity does something in this direction by extending the range\nof mental vision to the possibilities of the heavenly country, and the\nknowledge of God as the Creator excites a measure of interest in the\nobjects of His creation. But even amongst Indian Christians any keen\nperception of the beauty of scenery by land or on the sea-coast is\ndefective.\n\nDrawing is a subject which is now extensively taught in schools in\nIndia, and it is a branch of education which is helping to train the\nIndian mind to observe and appreciate form and colour. At one time the\nmany lads who came to the Mission-house for old Christmas cards\nscornfully rejected even the most beautiful pictures of flowers as\nbeing of no worth. Pictures of birds, or beasts, or people they sought\nfor eagerly, because such objects came within their range of\nappreciation, but the beauty of a flower as such they did not\nunderstand.\n\nLoose flowers without stalk or leaves are offered in temples, or they\nare strung on a thread and hung on the god like a necklace. But the\nvalue of the offering is in the scent of the flower, and not in the\nbeauty of its colour or form. The Yerandawana village children often\ncome to the church with their cap or pocket filled with flowers\nplucked in this fashion, which they present as an offering. We have a\nlarge brass bowl in which we receive such gifts, which is then placed\non the altar, with the prayer that those who have thus shown their\ngoodwill may be led on to give their own hearts to God.\n\nThe elaborate garlands which are used so largely as a complimentary\ngift to those whom it is thought desirable to honour are also valued\nfor their scent rather than for any intrinsic beauty which they may\npossess. If the flowers happen to be defective in this respect the\ndefect is corrected by the addition amongst their petals of powerfully\nsmelling attar of roses. So little is the natural beauty of the flower\nrecognised that in the more elaborate garlands small round\nlooking-glasses in tawdry brass frames are strung at intervals,\nproducing a painful incongruity.\n\nBut of late years quite a number of the more advanced students have\ncalled at the Mission-house expressly seeking pictures of flowers as\ndrawing studies, and their discriminating remarks, and their\nadmiration of pictures of special beauty, and the excellence of some\nof their own efforts in the production of drawings of natural objects,\nshows that at any rate this department of education is bringing about\nthe desired results.\n\nWhen the church at Yerandawana was building, the first indication that\nits unusual design commended itself to the Indian mind was that\npassers-by began to stop and look at it. You need to be familiar with\nthe Indian's state of oblivion concerning his surroundings, already\nreferred to, in order to understand the force of this. To pause and\ngaze at a big building in process of erection is, with most people, a\nnatural and obvious thing to do; especially if time is of no object\nand the design of the building a novelty. But not so the Indian. To\ngradually slacken his pace, to turn and look, to pause and discuss,\nwas an indication that new and unwonted impressions were being made on\nthe Indian mind. The effect increased as the building approached\ncompletion. Few people passed without regarding it attentively. Many\nlooked back to take another view before they had got out of sight. And\nalthough, to the villagers at any rate, the church is now a familiar\nobject, many of them still seem to find a pleasure in looking up at it\nas they go by.\n\nIts interior never fails to impress Hindus of whatever age or station,\nand it has become a valuable agent in the work of pioneer\nevangelisation. People who enter the church in an easygoing way are\nimpelled to reverence and subdued tones at the sight of its domes, and\nthe many arches in the massive walls, combined with its extreme\nsimplicity. Controversial Hindus drop their controversy, and find\nthemselves uttering expressions of surprised pleasure. Young children\nare so attracted by the church that they ask to visit it again and\nagain. Often when a Hindu boy comes and asks for pictures for the\nfirst time, some of the old stagers will suggest that he must see the\nchurch, and they are eager to display their knowledge of our\nreligious ways by explaining to him the meaning of what he finds\nthere.\n\n[Illustration: YERANDAWANA CHURCH FROM A DISTANCE.]\n\nThe English stories which are given as text-books in the upper classes\nof Indian schools sometimes present great difficulties to the Hindu\nmasters, who have to explain the meaning of words and phrases. Miss\nYonge's _Little Duke_ was being read in some of the Poona City High\nSchools one year. Even the Christian and surname of the author,\npronounced with exact reference to the spelling, produced such a\nmysterious result that it was some time before I recognised the real\nname buried up in strange sounds. Miss Yonge's references to churches\nwere often particularly perplexing, and a boy asking what was meant by\n\"the chancel,\" his master wisely advised his pupil to pay a visit to a\nChristian church and see for himself. Quite a number of young students\nat this period came and asked to be shown over the church, and to have\nits various parts explained to them. Some of the questions were not\neasy to answer, considering that the questioners were Hindus. What is\nmeant by \"Holy Communion?\" asked one of these young men. And later on\nanother, having had the font explained to him, said, \"And how about\nthe ceremony of bread and wine?\"\n\nEven a little party of seven or eight female students from a Hindu\ncollege, escorted by the one Christian girl in the establishment, came\nto see the church. Some of them were carefully dressed with due\nregard to Hindu fashion, but one or two were advanced women of the\nmodern school, who had introduced several innovations, especially as\nregards a freer way of arranging the hair. There was something almost\npathetic in their interest in what they saw, because the hope of their\never being otherwise than outsiders was, to say the least of it, very\ndistant. It was, however, a distinct mark of progress that the\nChristian girl who brought them was not only tolerated as a boarder in\nthe college amongst high-caste girls, but she was evidently popular\nand looked up to.\n\nAbout a dozen Hindu widows came over one morning to see the church\nfrom their home in the next village. They displayed a curious\ncombination of curiosity, apprehension, and interest. One oldish widow\nliterally fled to the other side of the church when she suddenly\nrealised that I was standing behind her. The other women were a good\ndeal amused at her alarm. It was evident that everything that they saw\nwas an enigma to them. Naturally Hindu visitors constantly ask, \"Where\nis the God?\" and they are a good deal astonished to find that there is\nno visible God. The widows were naturally interested in the needlework\nof the altar cloths and hangings, and asked several questions about it\nand admired it. Like the lady visitors from the Hindu college, they\nshowed some diversity of taste and opinion in their dress and\nornaments and arrangement of hair.\n\nWhen plague was bad in Poona City many of the well-to-do people left\ntheir homes and camped round about Yerandawana. In the evening, when\nBrahmin ladies were taking a walk with their children, or returning\nfrom their daily visit to the Hindu temple in the village, a party of\nthem would now and then come into the church and study it at leisure\nwith great interest. The beautiful figure of the Crucifixion, with Our\nLady and St John, above the high altar, worked in silk and gold, they\nlooked at and discussed with much appreciation of the skilled\nneedlework and the richness of the materials. How far the picture\nitself appealed to them it was difficult to say. Finally, they would\ngather round the great font, sometimes with caution till they saw that\nthere was no water in it, and listened respectfully to the description\nof its use.\n\n\"Yes, I see, it is for a religious bath,\" said one of them; and we\nwondered how long it might be before some of these good women would\nagain gather round the font to receive their own baptism.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nINDIAN EMPLOYERS OF LABOUR\n\n     Studies of Indian character. Workpeople rude to their\n     employers. Disobedience of female workers. The contractor's\n     pay-day. The labourers cheated. The caretaker of the\n     wood-store; the risk of fire; the caretaker's fidelity; his\n     cheerful poverty; the tyranny of clothes; his prayers. The\n     wood-cutters defrauded.\n\n\nWhile the village church was in process of building, many valuable\nopportunities occurred for getting insight into Indian character.\nVarious grades of men were employed, from the rough coolies who dug\nthe foundations, to the skilled decorator who gilded the cross on the\ntop of the tower. The prosperous Hindu contractor with his clerks and\noverseers were constantly on the spot, and vendors of wood and stone\nand other materials were frequently in the compound making bargains\nabout fresh supplies.\n\nOne noticeable feature amongst the working people was their rude\nmanner towards their employers. An English master would not have put\nup with it for an hour, but it did not disturb the Indian contractor\nin the least, and it was clearly only the normal state of things. Men\nand women of all grades joked with their employers, laughed at them,\nmade game of them, and when angry abused them to their heart's\ncontent. They on their part either took no notice, or laughed, or\nabused them in return. Their masters did not resent even deliberate\ndisobedience. An Englishman generally expects to be obeyed at once,\nand hesitation or delay on the part of the subject is looked upon as a\nserious offence. But it is not customary for any Indian to obey an\norder on the instant. You must always give him a little time.\n\nThe contractor's son, who acted as ganger or overseer, would find a\nbricklayer's assistant, male or female, sitting in the shade doing\nnothing. Women are employed largely as day-labourers, and more often\nthan not it was the woman who was the slowest to obey. The overseer\nwould tell her peremptorily to get up and go to work. The woman would\npretend not to hear him. The command would be repeated in louder\ntones. The woman would continue to wear an air of supreme\nindifference, and would remain sitting. Rougher words, accompanied by\nthreats, would at last produce the response, \"All right! I am coming,\"\nbut without any movement on the part of the woman. She would at length\nleisurely resume work. The contractor appeared to be content with this\nscant measure of obedience and not to expect more.\n\nBut when it came to wages day he was able to pay off old scores, but\nnot in coin of the realm. Almost everybody in India is paid monthly.\nWhen a person says, \"My pay is fifteen rupees,\" he means that this is\nwhat he gets each month. But the contractor settled accounts when he\nfelt inclined, and at irregular intervals. Pay-day was a very stormy\none. Its advent was notified by the arrival of the money-box, much\nresembling the old-fashioned wooden desk of the last century. The\ncontractor sat on the ground on a bit of old carpet, under the shade\nof a grass-mat, with the box before him. The process of paying often\nwent on for some hours, because it was accompanied by much fierce\narguing and angry debate. The contractor, though taking large\ncontracts, could neither read nor write. Yet he was said to have his\ncomplicated accounts clearly registered in his own mind. He\noccasionally made a few mystic symbols to assist his memory, which no\none understood except himself. One of his sons, who was better\neducated than he was, kept a record of what the labourers did, and it\nwas from this record that their pay was calculated.\n\nA slight familiarity with the nature of Hindu business transactions\nwould lead to the conviction that the vehement protestations of many\nof the labourers concerning the injustice of this record were well\nfounded. The contractor was bent on paying no more than he was\nabsolutely obliged. Considerations concerning justice, which still\nhave some influence even amongst indifferent Christians, would not\nhave entered his mind at all. His only anxiety would have been lest\nhis men should be exasperated to the point of leaving him. Hence the\nworkmen probably generally came out worst in the conflict because they\nhad no other means of redress, and labour is in most places abundant\nin India, and vacant posts are quickly filled. The contractor, on\npay-day at least, was able to show his contempt for the underlings who\nwere so often rude to him, by the way in which he gave them their\nmoney. Tossing it to them from a distance, they had to gather it up as\nbest they could out of the dust into which he threw it.\n\nIt is sometimes suggested that the want of truth and honesty in\nbusiness affairs amongst Hindus has been exaggerated. But it would be\nscarcely possible to exaggerate the extent of what is almost\nuniversal. If you were to ask one of themselves whether he knew of any\nHindu who could be really trusted in any matter involving money, he\nwould at once reply that he did not know of anybody. The day-labourer\nin particular, being a defenceless mortal, rarely gets from anybody\nthe full sum to which he is entitled. If he is paid by the day,\nbearing this in mind, he retaliates by doing as little work as\npossible. Hence labourers are almost always paid by the job.\n\nA Hindu wood-merchant took a contract for clearing a large tract of\nforest land some miles beyond the Yerandawana settlement. The quantity\nof wood was so great that there was no room for it in his yard in\nPoona City, and so he rented a strip of land immediately opposite the\nMission bungalow as a temporary wood-store. This vast amount of dry\ntimber became a matter of some anxiety, because if it had caught fire\nit would have roasted us out of church and home. Nor was this fear\naltogether unfounded. An old man was appointed caretaker, and lived in\na frail hut in the midst of the wood. He cooked his dinner daily with\nthe help of a wild-looking, unclothed little daughter who shared his\nhumble home. They generally kindled their fire inside the hut, which\nwas made of most inflammable materials, and to judge by the clouds of\nsmoke which poured out through the coarse thatch at cooking time, the\noperations were on rather a large scale. He also made a large bonfire\nof refuse bits of wood outside his hut on cold nights, and there he\nand a few friends would sit and toast themselves till a late hour.\n\nThis man was supposed to be paid by the month, but he told me that his\nmoney was always doled out to him in small sums at irregular\nintervals, and that he was never paid up to date. This is a common\ncustom to secure continuity of service. It would not matter if the\nbalance due was really given at the conclusion of the compact. But\nthis is rarely, if ever, done.\n\nThe old man watched the wood with exemplary fidelity for two years,\nnever absent from his post night or day, except for the briefest\npossible visit to the bazaar at long intervals, to buy the few\nnecessities of his simple life. He then fell ill, and decided to give\nup his job and return to his native village. But his employer only\ngave him a portion of the final balance, on the plea that he must have\nneglected his duty when he was unwell. He asked me to write a\ncertificate to the effect that he had stuck to his post all the time,\nwhich I gladly did, but it was not likely to help his cause with his\nheathen master.\n\nThis cheerful old man was an example of how happiness does not depend\non comfortable surroundings. The hut, which was of his own\nmanufacture, was of the most miserable description. Inside there was\nliterally only just space enough for himself and his little girl to\ncreep in and lie down. In the monsoon it was reduced to a pitiable\ncondition, the rain coming through like a sieve. The floor having\nbecome mud, the old man was at last obliged to invest in a native\nbedstead, which only costs about 8d. Having secured this luxury he was\nquite content, and when he looked across at the Mission bungalow,\nwhich, though homely enough, was a palace compared to his hut, I do\nnot suppose that he ever felt any wish to exchange residences.\n\nThe only thing that he could not bear was the tyranny of clothes, and\nhe wore even less than is usual in India. His chief joy was to sit and\nbake in the morning sun, and to be coiled up in the shade during the\nhottest part of the day. Now and then he came over and sat in one of\nour verandahs for a little while, and he would wander into church and\ngaze round with admiration. He was always smiling, or laughing, or\ntalking, or working, or sleeping. Though quite ignorant, he was a\ndevout Hindu according to his lights. It was pathetic to hear him in\nhis hut calling loudly on his gods, just about the time we went to\nCompline. He always repeated the names of about half a dozen gods,\ncalling on each about twelve times or more in succession, in a rapid\nbut clear voice which could be distinctly heard in the bungalow. I do\nnot think that he ever missed his evening exercise. We tried to teach\nhim something of Christianity; but beyond sharing in the general\nappreciation of the fabric of the church, and feeling that Christians\nmade good neighbours, I do not suppose that he took anything in.\nPictures he did not understand, or when we showed them to him, laughed\nmerrily, thinking that we meant it for a joke.\n\nAfter the wood had lain there for a long time, but before the old man\nretired, men were sent to cut it up for firewood. Half a dozen men\nworked hard for two or three weeks, and sawed and split quite a\nmountain of logs. Their day's work they measured in a primitive sort\nof balance, and the tally was checked by the old caretaker. Once or\ntwice an agent from the wood-merchant came on the scene, and a war of\nwords always ensued on the subject of methods of weighing, and the\nprospective payment of results. This was preparing the way for the\nfinal scene when the men began to clamour for their money. The agent\ndeclared that the wood had not been correctly weighed and that it must\nbe measured afresh, a process which would have taken some days.\nMeanwhile he said he would give them a portion of what was due, and\nthe balance must stand over. The men on receiving their docked pay\nindignantly gathered up their tools and declared that they would\nreturn to their native village, which they did. The agent had no doubt\ncounted on this final result all the time, and was able to report to\nhis master how well he had served his interests.\n\nThe wood had no permanent guardian after the old man left. Other men\ncame from time to time, worked for a day or two, cut up a certain\namount of wood, and then threw up the job before they had been paid\nanything at all, and thus the wood-merchant got a good deal of work\ndone for nothing. These are the sort of conditions under which nearly\nall the poorer class of day-labourers in India have to labour.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE INDIAN POSTAL SERVICE\n\n     The post-runners; their fidelity. The village post. Letters\n     to rustics few. Popularity of post cards. Indian\n     train-sorters. Dishonesty. Insurance. Postal privileges. Use\n     of the telegraph; its abuse; absurd instance of this. The\n     postman a privileged visitor.\n\n\nThe excellence of the postal service in India is surprising\nconsidering the difficult conditions under which it is worked. The men\nengaged in the collection and delivery of letters are perhaps more of\na success than those who are employed within the post offices. These\nlatter have more temptations to dishonesty.\n\nThe lowest grade of all in the service is proverbially the most\ndependable. These are the \"post-runners,\" who are illiterate men who\ncollect letters but cannot deliver them, because they cannot read the\naddresses. They often have very long beats in remote country\ndistricts, where sometimes there is risk both from robbers and wild\nbeasts. The runner may be recognised by a sort of javelin which he\ncarries, presumably for his protection; and to this are attached some\njingling bits of iron or small bells, so that after dark you can\ndetect the post-runner by this sound. More often than not his long\njourney extends into the night. Considering the lonely tracks through\nwhich his road frequently leads, it is to the credit of the\ninhabitants of the country that he is not often robbed. It is also to\nhis own credit that he is said to run any risk rather than fail to\ndeliver his mail-bag at its destination. His appearance, as he ambles\nalong in shabby attire with his letter-bag over his shoulder, is not\ncalculated to inspire confidence. But the Yerandawana letters are\npicked up in the evening by one of these primitive post-runners, and\nno instance is on record of any letter failing to reach its\ndestination.\n\nPost offices are at present only to be found in a few of the more\nimportant villages. The post-master is generally the Government\nschoolmaster, who is grateful for any addition to his small income. In\nthousands of Indian villages letters are only delivered two or three\ntimes a week, or even less, and they have no post-box. People send\ntheir letter to the post when anybody happens to be going to the\nnearest town.\n\nWhen the Mission first settled in Yerandawana there was no collection\nof letters at all. The English mail letters, which reached Bombay on\nFriday, sometimes did not get to Yerandawana till the following\nWednesday. But the postal authorities readily grant facilities as soon\nas there is a reasonable demand for them, and there is now a daily\ndelivery; also a morning and evening collection from a post-box hung\nin the verandah of the Mission roadside dispensary.\n\nVillagers at present make so little use of the postal service that\ngreater facilities than they have already got are not yet required.\nFew rustics can write with sufficient ease to enable them to write a\nletter, and a considerable proportion of the few letters which come to\nour villagers are soon brought on to the Mission-house, or to the\nschoolmaster, because the recipients cannot read them for themselves.\n\nAlmost all Indian correspondence is carried on by means of post cards.\nIt is the only country, perhaps, in which the post card may be said to\nbe a real success. In India it exactly supplied a want. The card is\ncheap (it only costs 1/4d.), and it is complete in itself. Stamps and\nenvelopes have to be wetted. The gum may have been made of the hoofs\nor bones of the cow, and the thought of possible defilement of caste\ncomes in. The post card has no drawback. Its publicity, which makes\nEnglish people dislike it, is not considered a disadvantage by the\nIndian. He reads other people's letters as a matter of course, and\nexpects other people to read his. I have often seen a postman seated\nby the street side sorting out his post cards, surrounded by an\ninterested little crowd. He and they are reading as many of the post\ncards as there is time for, and no one appears conscious of\nirregularity in the proceeding.\n\nA post-office inspector who was travelling in the train with me told\nme that they have great difficulty in checking robberies committed by\nthe Indian train-sorters, because effective supervision is impossible.\nIn the interval between station and station, which in some of the mail\ntrains is often an hour or two, the sorters know that they are secure\nfrom interruption. They get skilled in detecting by the feel the\npresence of a bank-note within an envelope. In a country where paper\ncurrency is largely in vogue people often send money by post in the\nform of notes in unregistered letters, trusting to the thin note not\nbeing observed.\n\nMany such notes get stolen by the train-sorters. Even sending half\nnotes is not always a security, if the remitter does not take the\nprecaution of waiting to hear of the safe arrival of the first half.\nThe dishonest sorter having secured the first half, and having\nobserved the post-mark and hand-writing, will be on the look-out for\nthe other half, which he knows is likely to come along the same route\nin a day or so. The only chance of getting hold of the thief is by\nsetting a trap for him in the shape of a marked note or coin. But the\nIndian thief often suspects and avoids the trap. Inspectors board the\ntrain at unexpected stations, and travel for a while with the sorters,\nand look into their affairs; but the sorters are generally ready for\nthem, and no sign of irregularity is visible. Nevertheless a certain\npercentage of thefts are brought to light, and the delinquents sent\nto prison. Insurance of articles sent by post is a great safeguard, as\nis shown by the fact that in one year recently the total insured value\nof articles posted amounted to nearly L17,000,000, whereas the sum\npaid in compensation was only about L500.\n\nThere are postal privileges in India such as England knows nothing of.\nNot only is there the 1/4d. post card, but there is an inland 1/2d.\npostage, for letters not exceeding 1/2 oz. in weight. The value of a\nmoney order is brought in cash by the postman and paid into your hand,\nand the receipt that you sign is returned by the post office to the\nsender, and there is no possibility of your being defrauded, because,\nif the money goes wrong on its way to you, the post office is\nresponsible.\n\nAnother great convenience is what is commonly spoken of as\nV.P.P.--that is to say, the \"value payable parcel\" system. If you\norder something from a shop to be sent by post, the postman collects\nthe value of the parcel before he hands it over, and the post office\ntransmits the money to the sender. If the person to whom the package\nis sent refuses to pay, or if he cannot be found, the package goes\nback to the sender. If the goods are heavy and are forwarded by train,\nthe railway invoice is sent by post, but it is not handed over by the\npostman until he has received the value of the goods. An immense\namount of trouble and correspondence is saved by this system, and it\nis a great security to shopkeepers in a country where distances are\ngreat, and many customers unknown, or migratory, or living in\nout-of-the-way places.\n\nThe telegraph has become rather popular amongst Indians, and they are\ninclined to use it on trivial occasions. As telegrams have to be\ntransmitted in English, I am familiar with the nature of those sent to\nrustic Indians, because those that come to Yerandawana always find\ntheir way to the Mission bungalow to be interpreted. Amongst the more\nwell-to-do Indians a death is now almost always announced by\ntelegraph. It is a new and impressive way of showing respect to the\ndeceased, and makes it appear that he was in his lifetime an important\nperson. In cases of sickness telegrams are despatched here and there\nto relations, summoning them urgently and at once, before there has\nbeen time to ascertain whether the sickness is really serious or not.\nRelations hurry off from long distances at great expense (how they get\nthe money is in some cases a mystery), and arrive perhaps to find the\nsick person walking about. Christians under similar circumstances act\nwith just as much hasty precipitation as other Indians.\n\nA most absurd instance of the abuse of the use of the telegraph\nhappened to one of our Christian women. She got a telegram to the\neffect that her son was going to be hanged on the following Thursday,\nand that she must come at once. The woman brought the telegram to the\nMission-house in the utmost consternation and distress. The son being\nrather a \"ne'er-do-weel,\" his having got into some scrape was not\nimprobable; but that he should have committed murder, and been tried\nand sentenced without anybody hearing of it seemed impossible. A\ntelegram was sent to the governor of the gaol where the lad was\nsupposed to be. A reply was promptly returned saying that there was no\nprisoner of that name in the gaol. The whole thing proved to be an\nabsurd attempt on the part of the lad himself to get his mother to\ncome to the place where he was living. To have merely telegraphed that\nhe was ill might not have had the desired effect, but the appalling\ncontents of the false telegram he thought were bound to be effective.\nThe inevitable distress of his mother he does not appear to have taken\ninto account at all.\n\nTelegrams are also used as a means of putting on the screw in case of\na debt, or perhaps as a means of extorting money falsely. \"Send Rs. 20\nat once\"--\"Bring Rs. 5 without fail to-morrow\"--such have been some of\nthe village telegrams. The contents of a telegram soon become public\nproperty, because a small crowd always accompanies its recipient when\nhe comes to have it read. They listen eagerly to its contents, discuss\nit at length, and retail it to all absentees.\n\n[Illustration: THE INDIAN VILLAGE POSTMAN.\n\n(The white paint-marks on his forehead and cheeks indicate that Vishnu\nis his special god.)]\n\nThe Indian postman knows that he is a privileged and generally welcome\nvisitor, especially when he is the bearer of the bulky weekly mail\nfrom England. He steps into the verandah, or in at any of the many\nwide-open doors of the bungalow, with a confidence and with a\nconsciousness that there is no need to ask permission, such as other\nIndian visitors do not always feel.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nINDIANS AND ENGLISH CUSTOMS\n\n     Spread of English customs inevitable. No national dress.\n     Christians and English dress. Increased refinement means\n     increased expense; instances of this. Defects in the Indian\n     style of dress. Beauty of the turban. Models in the Indian\n     Institute. The transformed policeman.\n\n\n\"But why are they in English clothes? Why do they not wear their\nIndian dress?\" So said somebody when looking at a photograph of some\nof the Christian lads who are working in the Mission stables.\n\nThe criticism is sometimes heard that missionaries are largely\nresponsible for the introduction of European dress and customs into\nforeign countries. The charge is only partially true; in many cases it\nis the restraining influence of the missionary which has done\nsomething to check the inevitable growth of foreign customs, even at\nthe cost of provoking some discontent amongst the members of his\nflock.\n\nThe real truth of the matter is that the spread of these customs is a\ntide that cannot be stayed, and the most that can be hoped for is to\nhelp to regulate it, so that things obviously out of place should not\ncreep in. As the knowledge of English spreads, the acquisition of\nEnglish ways gradually follows. This naturally is specially the case\namongst Christians, because so many of them are living in close touch\nwith English people.\n\nIndian Christians are sometimes criticised and laughed at for their\nfrequent adoption of European dress, which often involves the adjuncts\nof collars, ties, studs, shoes, and socks. But in so doing they are\nnot discarding a national dress, because India does not possess one.\nDress in India denotes religion or occupation, not country. The ample\nlinen cloth which the Hindu folds around his waist and therewith\nclothes his legs, denotes that he is a Hindu. For that reason many\nChristians do not care to retain it. The Mohammedans have their own\nspecial garb, which of course Christians could not adopt. The English\nbeing a Christian race, it has inevitably followed that their style of\ndress should in India become associated with the idea of Christianity,\nand few people except Christians wear it, except that coats of English\ncut are now common amongst all classes of Indians.\n\nIt is true that some missionaries who are anxious to retain Eastern\ncustoms as far as possible are nevertheless averse to the retention of\nnative costume, because experience has taught them that it has serious\ndisadvantages, and that it is wholesome for a Christian to be marked\nas such wherever he goes by what he wears. Added to which, it is a\nwell-known fact that an Indian lad, neatly clad in English style with\nall those adjuncts for which he is criticised, stands a much better\nchance of getting work, and at a higher rate of pay, than would be the\ncase if he made his application dressed with equal neatness, but in\nnative garments. His English dress also secures him many little\nconcessions and courtesies, especially when travelling, which he would\nnot otherwise get.\n\n[Illustration: NARAYEN KHILARI, SON OF ONE OF THE FARMERS IN THE\nVILLAGE.]\n\nChristianity rightly brings in its train aspirations for some of the\nrefinements of civilisation, and that these involve an increase of\nexpenditure is inevitable. Indian Christians are sometimes reproached\nfor their inability to live on the small sum on which a Hindu of the\nsame station manages to exist. No doubt some, partly from\ninexperience, have followed Western ways to a foolish extent. But the\nfact remains that a good Christian has unavoidably more expenses than\nthose of the average working Hindu. He cannot spend his evenings\ndozing in the dark, therefore he must have a lamp, with its usual\nadjuncts. He has been taught to read, and needs a few books. He now\nand then writes a letter. He reads his Bible with his family, and says\nsome prayers before they go to bed. His wife can sew and mend her\nchildren's clothes, and the evening hours with the lamp are of value\nto her. He no longer cares to go about in the scant clothing which\nsatisfies a Hindu. He would not wish his little children to run\nabout naked, like those of his Hindu neighbours. He must have clean\nclothes for Sunday, and though he can do a little rough washing on his\nown account, he needs the skill of the _dhobie_ for some of his wife's\ngarments and his white Sunday suit. He is expected to contribute\nliberally towards church expenses; and where the number of Christians\nin a place is few, this burden falls rather heavily on each.\nOccasionally he needs a new prayer book or hymn book. He would like to\ntake in a weekly paper. He has begun to understand a little what is\nmeant by home life, and so he is tempted to buy pictures and other\nornaments to make his house look pleasant. Without a clock he cannot\nmake much progress in the practice of punctuality, and he buys one in\norder that he may get to church at the proper time. Greater regard for\ncleanliness means soap and towels. He can no longer have a share in\nthe periodical Hindu feasts when poor people, at any rate once in a\nway, get a full belly. On the contrary, the traditional spirit of\nhospitality, especially at the time of great festivals, is often a\nserious drain on the resources of many Christians, who, like most\nIndians, are generally generous beyond their means to all comers. The\nIndian Christian also desires to have his children educated, and\nthough he gets a good deal of help from mission schools he does so\nless than formerly, and he is often told (and no doubt rightly) that\nif he wishes education for his children he must pay for it like other\npeople.\n\nIt would probably be considered almost a heresy even to suggest that\nthe various styles of dress worn by Indian men are not really more\npicturesque than many other styles. A street in an Eastern city, with\nits throng of quaintly dressed people, is much more fascinating in\nappearance than the sombre hues of an average London crowd in the\nwinter time. The rich colours and the sparkling jewels of an assembly\nof Indian nobility attract the eye by their brilliance. But if you\nseparate the individuals who make up the crowd, and take their costume\ninto individual consideration, you are conscious of defects. The\nglittering array of an Indian chief appears more adapted to feminine\nneeds than those of a king or noble. The _dhota_, which takes the\nplace of trousers amongst Hindus, is not really a particularly comely\ngarment, and its loose folds are not at all convenient for working\nmen, especially masons and carpenters, who have to climb about on\nscaffolds.\n\nThe dresses of Indian women in general may safely be accepted as being\nmore picturesque and more convenient than the styles of female costume\nprevalent in Europe. And the turban for the men, with its variety of\nshape and colour, and its great practical utility as a protection from\nthe rays of the tropical sun, is without doubt the most artistic\ncovering for the head that the world produces. It is a sad pity that\nthe turban is being slowly but steadily ousted by the adoption of a\nstupid little cloth cap, as ugly as it is useless.\n\nHow hopeless it would be to attempt to decide which is the national\ndress out of any of those now worn in India, might be realised even in\nEngland by a visit to a museum, such as the Indian Institute in\nOxford. There is there a most interesting collection of clay figures,\nadmirably modelled, and coloured and draped. They represent many of\nthe various types and dresses to be found in the country. These\nfigures are made in Poona City, and are absolutely correct. They do\nnot by any means include all the varieties of costume to be seen in\nIndia. Nevertheless, if you were to mix them all up together, the\nresult would very fairly represent the motley throng which you might\nsee in the more crowded parts of Bombay City, to which place, as a\ngreat sea-port, people come from all parts of India. If you were to\nselect a person out of the throng as wearing a dress suitable for\nChristians to adopt, you would be told that that particular costume\ndenoted either the man's religion or his occupation, or both, and for\nanyone else to wear it, except those of the same class as himself,\nwould create a false impression as to the wearer's identity. If you\nwere to suggest that the costume selected might be adopted as the\nnational dress for India, you would be assured that no one would\nconsent to wear it except the little group of people whose\ndistinctive garb it is.\n\nHow much dress has to do with the appearance of an Indian was brought\nhome to me one day, when a magnificent-looking policeman entered the\ncarriage in which I was sitting, at a station near Bombay. He had on a\ntall blue turban, dark blue tunic with leathern belt, loose\nknickerbockers, and putties. His clothes were put on with extreme\nneatness; they were as spotless as those of a London policeman, and\nthe brass numbers and letters polished to the highest degree. I was\nastonished to see this magnificent fellow rapidly divest himself of\nall his clothing--turban, tunic, knickerbockers, putties--there would\nhave been nothing left, except that a Hindu wears beneath his uniform\nthe meagre garments which suffice for everyday life, so that when he\nhad got rid of everything which appertained to him as a policeman he\nwas still fit to go into Indian society. The ordinary garments of an\nIndian are scanty, but the double set of clothing might be thought\nrather oppressive in the tropics. But the Indian likes to be warmly\nclad at any time of the year. Boys of the Mission will wear comforters\nand warm coats well into the hot season if allowed to do so.\n\nThe effect of the removal of the policeman's uniform was startling. He\nwas evidently going off duty, because he handed all his discarded\nbelongings to a friend on the platform, and he was only using my\ncarriage as a dressing-room. The whole process of transformation only\ntook about two minutes, and he then walked off in the opposite\ndirection. But no one could have supposed that there was any identity\nbetween the shabby Hindu, with shaved head and little pigtail and\nfluttering _dhota_, and that fine-looking fellow who first entered the\ncarriage.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nINDIAN UNPUNCTUALITY\n\n     On the railway. The unpunctual neighbour. Indians' opinions\n     concerning punctuality. Christianity only a partial cure.\n     Servants and punctuality. Indians' unpunctuality at meals.\n     Parable of the Marriage Feast. Patient waiting.\n\n\nThe inveterate unpunctuality of almost all Indians is a serious\nobstacle to the progress of the country. Hours and days are wasted\nthrough their failure to keep appointments, or to do work at the\nproper time. The Indian takes long to understand, and never\nappreciates, the Englishman's craze for punctuality. Because the\nEnglishman grumbles when the Indian is two hours late in keeping his\nappointment, the latter thinks that it is only part of the former's\nnatural unreasonableness.\n\nThis Indian habit of unpunctuality would soon produce confusion and\ndisaster on the railway. For this reason English station-masters at\nthe principal stations, and English drivers and guards on most\npassenger trains are, at present, a necessity. Subordinates, working\nunder English supervision, are obliged to hurry up. Parsees, who in\nmany ways display great business capacity, make reliable\nengine-drivers. But they are themselves only settlers in India.\n\n[Illustration: THE \"KINDLY HINDU\" NEIGHBOUR, HIS SONS AND\nGRANDCHILDREN.]\n\nIt is difficult to get subordinate Indian railway officials to realise\nthat minutes are of importance. Express trains, especially on some of\nthe lines where the number of European officials is not great, are\nfrequently held up through the carelessness of native station-masters\nat roadside stations. I remember an express having to wait more than\nten minutes near a wretched little country station in the early\nmorning, the driver whistling frantically before the slumbering\nmaster, who was the only station official, could be roused to lower\nthe signal. When at last the train moved slowly past the station I saw\nthis Indian official in process of being withered up by the scorching\nlanguage of the English driver. But in spite of that, the probability\nis that he soon repeated the offence. Such carelessness involves the\nadditional risk that it tempts drivers to run past signals, on the\nassumption that the signalman is asleep or inattentive to his duty.\n\nA kindly Hindu offered to drive me in his carriage to the cantonment\non some business matter. He suggested that we should start at seven\nthe next morning, and he was a little disappointed because I said that\nI should not be free to start till 7.30. As the carriage had not\nappeared at that hour the next morning, I sent over to my neighbour to\nask how soon he would be ready. He replied, \"In a quarter of an\nhour.\" He came over himself at 8.15 to say that there was a slight\ndelay, but that we should very soon be off. He sat talking till 8.45,\nand then said he would go and expedite matters. He returned in about\nhalf an hour, and asked whether after all it might not be better if we\nwent in the Mission _tonga_. But as that was not available, he said\nthat it was of no consequence, because his own carriage would be ready\nalmost directly. At about a quarter to ten I went over to see what our\nprospects were, and he then said that he thought we had better put off\nthe expedition for that day, and make a really early start the next\nmorning. He gave strict orders to his servant that the carriage should\nbe ready without fail, and soon after 6 A.M. it actually appeared. But\neven then we did not get off till nearly nine. And this is only one\ninstance of the delay and uncertainty and waste of time which occurs\ndaily, and many times a day, in some phase or other, and is a\nnecessary feature of all Indian affairs.\n\nTalking to an intelligent young Hindu about this defect, I suggested\nthat it might be partly due to the scarcity of clocks, and that when\nthese became more numerous and better understood there might be some\nimprovement. The young man replied: \"Clocks and watches will make no\ndifference; the defect is in the Indian nature.\"\n\n\"Then will this never be cured?\" I asked.\n\n\"Probably never,\" he said.\n\n\"Never,\" I answered, \"until Christianity teaches you the value of\ntime.\"\n\nAnother Indian, quite independently, expressed the same idea in almost\nthe same words. \"Some of us have learnt to be punctual,\" he said, \"in\nour engagements with English people because we find that they expect\nit of us. But we shall never be any different in this respect amongst\nourselves. We do not think it any drawback to be two or three hours\nlate.\"\n\nAnother Hindu, referring with approval to the punctuality and\nregularity of the services in the church, said, \"We also have our\nfixed times for our observances. But the difference between us is that\nyou keep them, and we don't.\"\n\nIt must be confessed that Christianity is only partially successful in\ncuring the defect of unpunctuality. Both amongst priests and people,\nunless there happens to be some Englishman at hand with precise ideas\nabout time, there is an extraordinary vagueness as to the hour for\nservice, especially in country districts. Service begins when a\nsufficient number of people have arrived. The bell is very little\nguide, because when it has been rung and nobody comes, it is rung\nagain. A few people turn up much too early. A few more arrive just as\nservice is over. The rest have straggled in at intervals. Neither\npriest nor people are in any way troubled, or disturbed, or surprised\nat each other's want of punctuality. Because, it should be added, that\neven if the congregation has gathered at the proper time, it does not\nfollow as a matter of course that the Indian priest will be punctual.\n\nServants learn to serve meals at the appointed time when they have\nonce grasped the idea that this is required of them, and they do not\nhesitate to politely rebuke an habitually punctual master if by chance\nhe is late. If the bell for Office at the Mission-house does not ring\nprecisely at the moment, one of the house-boys is sure quickly to\nappear before whoever is responsible, and will say reproachfully,\n\"Time is finished.\" Or, if the response to the bell for meals is not\nimmediate, he will come and say sternly, \"The bell has rung.\" But this\ndoes not mean that they see the value of punctuality. They look upon\nit as an English peculiarity which it is expedient to humour, and\nwhich the Englishman ought to uphold, but it does not make them\npunctual in their own social or business arrangements.\n\nEven although most Indians look forward to meal-time with a good deal\nof relish, they cause their womenkind much inconvenience by the\nirregular way in which they come home to meals. Not only has the wife\nthe trouble of trying to keep the dinner hot and ready for an\nindefinite time, but as she never eats until her husband has been fed,\nshe has to fast until he returns.\n\nIn the parable of the Marriage Feast and the Great Supper, we read of\nservants going to tell the guests, who (it should be noticed) had\nalready been invited, that they were to come, \"for all things are now\nready.\" This is what actually takes place in connection with most\nIndian feasts. The invitation is for a certain hour. But the chance of\nthe meal being ready at that time is very remote. Hence it is usual to\ntell the more distinguished guests, living within reach, that someone\nwill come and call them when everything is really ready. And the\nsummons is expressed almost in the exact words of the parable.\n\nThe few people who happen to arrive at the hour mentioned in their\ninvitation are not disturbed at having to wait for their meal for a\nperiod which may extend even to hours. It is to be feared that English\nguests invited to a dinner-party at seven, and having to wait till\nnine-thirty before the dinner-bell rang, would not be in a very\nagreeable frame of mind by the time they sat down to table.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nINDIAN POVERTY\n\n     Indian squalor. The Indian's house; how he takes his meals;\n     no home life; physical results. Contrast of the Brahmin\n     doctor's home; his little sons. But without a religion. The\n     Hindu contractor; his visit to the Church; his pathetic\n     position.\n\n\nWhether the sometimes so-called \"simplicity\" of Indian native life is\nreally a thing to be desired, is a question which it may be well to\nask. It is, undoubtedly, a right general principle that each person's\nlife should be kept as homely and simple as circumstances will allow.\nThere is, however, a distinction between simplicity and the squalor of\nsordid poverty.\n\nA poor Indian lives as he does chiefly because he cannot help himself,\nand partly, perhaps, because he has no other ideal. But it is at best\nan unlovely and cramping form of existence. Though he can sustain life\non a remarkably small wage, he is nearly always hungry, and has so\nlittle stamina that he easily succumbs under serious sickness. He\nwears but little clothing, and his young children none at all. But he\nsuffers much in the rains because he has no change of garments, and\nin the cold weather because his flimsy dress is no protection; and if\nhe gets a little money he gladly buys a blanket, or a warm coat. He\nhas no lamp in his dwelling because he cannot afford it, and after the\nearly nightfall he has to pass his evening hours sitting in the dark,\nwhen there is no moon. In almost all the houses of a country village\nin western India, and in many of the houses in towns, there is no\nfurniture at all. Sometimes there is a small cot for the baby, hung\nfrom one of the rafters; and now and then a somewhat larger wooden\nframe, suspended in the same fashion, is used by the grown-up members\nof the family to sit or sleep upon. But, as a rule, everybody sits and\nsleeps on the ground. The floors of the houses are invariably made of\nearth, beaten down hard, and smeared periodically with a decoction of\ncow-dung.\n\nEven a well-to-do Indian takes his food sitting on the ground in the\nplace where the food was cooked, which is often a dark lean-to\nbuilding, attached to the main dwelling. He takes off all his clothing\nexcept his _dhota_, and eats with his fingers in silence. Sociality at\nsuch a time is out of place; it diverts the mind from the business in\nhand, which is that of \"filling the belly,\" as the Indian himself\ncommonly expresses it. The women of the household never sit down to\ndinner with the rest of the family. They wait on the men, and then\ntake their own meal afterwards by themselves. There is nothing\nelevating in the process.\n\nThe meal of an average Indian Christian family is a complete contrast.\nPoverty probably compels simplicity and frugality; but father and\nmother and children sit down together, and there is much sociality.\nThe desire to sit on chairs merely as a mark of distinction is a\nfoolish aspiration. Nevertheless, as an Indian Christian once\nexpressed it to me, \"The wish to come off the floor means that we are\ngrowing in refinement and politeness.\"\n\nThere are usually no windows in most of the older houses of the poorer\npeople. Modern houses have sometimes several windows, but they are\nbarred and shuttered, and from long habit are usually kept closed by\npreference. The only movable articles in the houses of the bulk of the\nIndian population are the brass and copper, or earthenware, cooking\npots and pans, and the prosperity of the household can be pretty\naccurately gauged by the quality, number, and condition of these\nutensils. A few people own besides an old box or two, generally\ncontaining an accumulation of old rags, which nearly all Indians seem\nto take an interest in collecting. Extra clothes, when they have any,\nare hung on large wooden pegs, which are fixed into the walls of most\nrooms in Indian dwellings.\n\nOne result of the comfortless and dreary aspect of the interior of an\nIndian's house is that very few of them have any home life, as we\nunderstand it. The Indian does not sit indoors, unless compelled to\ndo so by sickness, or stress of weather. And though the majority are\nsatisfied so to live, because no other manner of life is known to\nthem, there is nothing beautiful about it. Even from a purely physical\npoint of view, it is an unwholesome state of things. The airless,\nlightless houses are most unsavoury, and in times of sickness and\nchildbirth this is intensified. It cannot be wondered at that plague,\nor cholera, or malignant fevers, often make frightful ravages in\nfamilies. Nor does it tend to elevate the character to sit on a mud\nfloor dozing in the dark, or telling scandalous stories with the\nchildren drinking in every word.\n\nBy way of contrast, I recall the country home of a Brahmin doctor, who\nhas built himself a house at Yerandawana as a haven of refuge in time\nof plague. It is surrounded by a little garden, radiant with flowers.\nIt lacks the neatness of an English garden, nevertheless it is\nsomething far away ahead of anything which any of his neighbours have\nattempted. His name means \"seven sons.\" He has already got six, and is\nhoping for the seventh. These six little sons are dressed in ordinary\nEnglish boys' dress. They are frequent visitors at the Mission\nbungalow. It may, of course, be only English prejudice which makes\nthis dress appear to me better for the boys themselves than the scant\ngarments of the Indian. Instead of the usual shorn head and small\npigtail, their glossy hair, very neat in the case of the elder boys,\ntumbled about in the case of the younger ones, is a delightful\ncontrast.\n\nBut to look in at the open door in the evening at their home life, as\nI have often done, is entirely convincing. A table is in the middle of\nthe room covered with a red cloth; there is a bright lamp, a few\npictures are on the walls, and the party of cheerful boys are sitting\nround the table. Some are playing games, others are drawing, some are\nlooking at books. Though in such a different clime, the sight brought\nback the memory of winter evenings in boyish days at home.\n\nThis Hindu doctor has practically parted with his religion. There are\nprobably no objects of worship in his country home, except a Tulsi\nplant on a pedestal in the back compound. This plant is a good deal\nvenerated by women, and no doubt was provided for the benefit of the\nladies of his household. But although it is some gain to have given up\nidolatrous customs, and to have adopted some of the refinements of\ncivilised life, he and his little family are in the unhappy condition\nat present of being without a religion.\n\nA Hindu contractor, who was visiting the church one day, surprised me\nby saying, as he turned towards one of the pictures hanging on the\nwalls: \"This is the baptism of Christ--the river is the Jordan. He was\nbaptized by John.\" I asked him how he knew all these facts. He replied\nthat he had been educated at a Jesuit school, and that he had learnt\nthem there. I said that, having been brought up under such\ncircumstances, and having learnt so much and being now well advanced\nin years, how was it that he was still a Hindu. He answered: \"I cannot\ntell. All I know is that now I do not know what I am.\"\n\nHe asked many intelligent questions. Amongst the rest, did we hear\nconfessions? He was a type of a constantly increasing number of\neducated men, who, although outwardly appearing as Hindus, only\npractise the minimum of religious observances, and have no belief at\nall. Amongst these are men, like the Brahmin doctor, who have imbibed\nsomething of the spirit of Christianity from what they have heard and\nseen, and are distinctly the better for having dropped so much of\ntheir Hinduism. But their position is a pathetic one, because so few\nof them have the courage to act upon the considerable measure of truth\nwhich has come home to them.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nINDIAN ART\n\n     Intrusion of Western ideas; unfortunate result. Royal\n     palaces. Carving and balustrades; graceful domestic\n     utensils; their high polish. Native jewellery; beautiful\n     examples in villages. Incongruous pictures from Europe.\n     Indian oil paintings; effect of Christianity on Indian art;\n     wall decorations. Women's taste in colour.\n\n\nIndian art is sadly degenerating through the intrusion of inferior\nWestern designs. Modern houses in most Indian cities lack the artistic\ngrace which distinguishes many of the old houses of wealthy people.\nPart of the beauty of many ancient dwellings in Poona City is to be\nfound in their admirable proportions. Modern houses in India are often\nbuilt in a pseudo-Gothic style, with barbarous innovations in the\nshape of base metal-work and glaring coloured glass, and in which all\nsense of proportion has been hopelessly lost.\n\n[Illustration: A MODERN HOUSE IN POONA CITY, BUILT BY ONE OF THE\nINDIAN CLERGY.]\n\nSome of the modern palaces of Indian Rajahs are built and furnished in\nthis style, at an immense cost, and with most incongruous results.\nWhereas many of the old palaces, and those of northern India in\nparticular, afford beautiful examples of royal residences, well\nadapted to the needs of Indians, and yet capable of being modified\nfor the use of modern-minded rulers who have adopted some of the\nhousehold arrangements of the West. Sir Swinton Jacob has shown in the\nfairy-like palace which he built at Jeypore, but which internally you\nfind exactly suited to the requirements of a modern museum, how\npossible it is to adapt Indian architecture to present-day needs.\nThere is a good deal of carving, effectively placed and graceful in\ndesign and skilfully executed, both on the outside and inside of old\nhouses in the City of Poona; and the balustrades that form the front\nof the narrow verandahs, which run along so many of the houses with\nhappy effect, afford charming specimens of what the turner's craft can\naccomplish. But nowadays ironwork, such as adorns a cheap bedstead,\nmore often than not is substituted for the graceful balustrade, and\nsome tawdry decoration, or coarsely-cut stone corbel, takes the place\nof the picturesque carved woodwork.\n\nThe graceful outline of pots and pans used in Indian households has\noften been remarked upon, and happily at present there are no signs of\ndegeneration in this department of domestic life. The traditional\nshapes still hold their ground; and even quite common utensils, made\nof coarse earthenware, are pleasing to look at. The more costly brass\nand copper vessels in ordinary daily use are delightful examples of\nhow much beauty can be got out of an artistic outline, even when there\nis an entire absence of ornamentation. In the midst of a vast amount\nof apparent disregard for cleanliness, there are certain matters about\nwhich a Hindu is excessively particular. The metal cups and pans must\nbe polished up to the highest pitch of perfection, and though the\nHindu woman will take the dust or mud of the street for her polishing\npowder, the result of her labours is that the vessels shine\nbrilliantly. They are the more beautiful because, in order that\ncleanliness may be assured by the smooth, unbroken surface, they are\nquite unadorned.\n\nIt has sometimes been discussed whether the specimens of old Indian\nbrass in museums should be polished or not, and some collectors\ncarefully preserve the old tarnish. It would be impossible in the\nEnglish climate to keep the objects continually bright, without\ninfinite labour; but it is well to remember, in considering the\nartistic merits of any brazen article, that its original normal\ncondition was one of high polish.\n\nNative jewellery is also being influenced for the worse by the\ninfusion of Western ideas. The Indian workers in gold and silver are\napt now to imitate the design of the cheap jewellery imported from\nEurope, and they are not aware that their own traditional designs are\nreally much the most beautiful. Many of the chains and necklaces and\nbracelets worn by villagers, both male and female, are the best\nexamples of unadulterated Indian art, because modern ideas and shapes\nhave not yet reached them; or, if they see some of these new devices\nwhen they come to give their order to the goldsmith in the city, they\nare still conservative enough to prefer the designs of their\nforefathers. There are quaint and ingenious devices for fastening the\nnecklaces, and part of the charm of the primitive handiwork is its\nindividual character, shown in a certain roughness and want of rigid\nsymmetry.\n\nIn the houses of the more old-fashioned wealthy Hindus, in their big\nreception-room, only rarely used, may be seen curious examples of the\nmistakes which may be made so easily when introducing objects of art\nfrom another country without adequate knowledge. Pictures from\nEngland, interspersed with mirrors, form the chief decoration on the\nwalls of many of these saloons. They are hung almost touching each\nother, very high up, like the \"sky-ed\" line of the Royal Academy, but\nwith nothing on the walls below, and they often present a most curious\njumble: a few good engravings; gaudy pictures, first issued as\nadvertisements; portraits of persons, known and unknown; worthless\nprints in gorgeous frames; and a picture with some merit, stuck all\nawry in a frame which does not belong to it.\n\nIn the houses of a younger generation you will see large oil paintings\nby modern Indian artists, in heavy gilt frames and properly hung,\nalthough still rather higher than is usual with us. Some are family\nportraits; some are scenes from the histories of the gods. The colours\nused are exceedingly brilliant, and the picture itself is often\npainted on a very bright background. The drawing, which used to be the\ndefective part of Indian pictures, is much improving now that drawing\nhas become a regular part of the education of the Indian boy.\n\nIt is rather difficult to judge of the artistic value of a picture\npainted in a style so unlike Western models. But on the whole one is\nled to think that the brilliant colours are suited to the country, and\nthat they are blended with astonishing taste, considering the extreme\ndifficulty of blending happily hues of such a pronounced character. If\nonly the study of Western examples helps to purify the Indian style\nwithout destroying its individuality, one would hope that Indian\nartists will eventually produce pictures which will have a great charm\nof their own.\n\nTheir mythology for the most part only supplies them with gods whose\ntraditional form is either grotesque, or repulsive, or sensual. But\nwhen Christianity has been accepted, and incorporated into the lives\nof the people, the wide field for artistic and religious effect which\nwill then open out will give new scope, and one may expect some very\nstriking results when familiar scenes of sacred story are depicted by\nthe Eastern pencil and brush.\n\nIndians are fond of decorating the outside whitewashed walls of their\ntemples and houses with mural paintings. They often present a quaint\nmixture of hunting-scenes, and animals and gods, and soldiers and\nIndians and Europeans. One such fresco, on the wall of the house of\nthe headman of Yerandawana village, is a most comical reproduction of\nthe garden front of Windsor Castle, taken from an _Illustrated London\nNews_, but embellished with many Indian characteristics. The purely\ndecorative part of these wall pictures is often graceful and\nharmonious, and one can look forward to the day when the Christian\nIndian artist will joyfully decorate, in his own traditional style,\nthe bare white walls of the village Church of St Crispin, and\nbeautiful saints and angels will take the place of the dethroned gods.\n\nThe, often richly coloured, garments of the Indian woman, whether poor\nor rich, are always in perfect taste and harmony; even the Parsee\nladies, who boldly use colours of astonishing brilliancy in their\ndresses, seem to be able to do so without producing that amazing\ndiscord of colour which greets the traveller from the East as he comes\nback Westwards into the streets of a European city.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE INDIAN VILLAGE\n\n     The village Panchayat; a rough and ready tribunal; its\n     decisions. Magisterial trial of offences on the spot. The\n     Christian Panchayat; its doubtful results; fans the spirit\n     of discord; undesirable reiteration of incidents. Want of\n     wholesome reserve. Knowledge of evil. Out-caste villagers no\n     longer servile; disposal of dead carcases; burial of\n     strangers. Mahars growing prosperous.\n\n\nIn Indian villages there is what is called a Panchayat, or committee\nof five, for the settlement of disputes, although of late years many\nof the Panchayats have become practically moribund. The members of\nthis council are chosen from the leading men of the village. All kinds\nof disputes can be submitted to this court of arbitration, from cases\nof cattle trespass, or doubtful land boundaries, to breaches of Hindu\nreligious custom. It is the Panchayat which has the power to out-caste\na man--a dreaded punishment--which means that his relations and\nfriends will no longer hold intercourse with him; no one will hand him\nfood or water; shopkeepers may refuse to serve him; and if he dies,\nnone of his own people will bury or cremate him, but his body will\nbe left to be disposed of by the scavengers.\n\n[Illustration: MRS SALOME ZADHAW.]\n\nThe Panchayat is only a rough and ready way of settling disputes, or\npunishing minor offences. Much of the evidence in the cases which come\nbefore it is either false or else grossly distorted. The members of\nthe Panchayat are already probably prejudiced either for or against\nthe offender, and make no attempt to rise above their prejudices. Any\none of them will side with the party who will make it worth his while\nto do so.\n\nThe final decision may, or may not, be in accordance with the facts of\nthe case. The guilty person, if an offence has been committed, may\nescape; and an innocent person, who has few friends and little to\noffer, may get punished. Men who are poor and unpopular sometimes get\nsorely bullied, and even ill-treated, in an Indian village.\nNevertheless, at present the Panchayat has its use in Hindu India, and\nthe prospect of being brought under its power is a wholesome terror.\nWhen India has progressed a stage further this primitive mode of\nprocedure, already a good deal discredited, will no doubt be\nsuperseded altogether.\n\nUnfortunately, even in more august tribunals where the desire to be\ntrue and just is uppermost, false evidence is so rife that there has\nto be a good deal of guesswork, and calculations of probabilities,\nwhen trying to come to a right decision. It has lately been advocated\nthat magistrates should, when practicable, hold their preliminary\ntrial of offences in the village where the misdemeanour is alleged to\nhave taken place. The witnesses under these circumstances are more\ndisposed to give a true account of what has happened. They are\nsurrounded by neighbours who know, to some extent, whether they are\nspeaking the truth or not, and are apt to betray them in case of\nfalsehood. But if the inquiry takes place at a city police-court, the\nwitnesses come in contact with the false witnesses, and bad\ncharacters, and petty lawyers (or \"pleaders\" as they are called), who\nhang about in the vicinity, and the usual result is that having been\ntampered with by some interested person, all hopes of an honest\nnarrative are at an end.\n\nThere is a laudable desire to adapt Indian customs to the needs of\nIndian Christians. The result has not always been the success which\nwas hoped for. The truth is, that what may be advantageous in the\nheathen world may be quite otherwise when applied to the circumstances\nof the Christian community. Because it was the old custom in Hindu\nvillages to settle difficulties, secular and religious, by a\nPanchayat, it was thought that it would be advantageous to exercise\ndiscipline in the Church in the same way. It was well to give it a\ntrial, but many begin to doubt its applicability. The Indian often is,\nlike many others, a man of strong prejudices, and even Christianity is\nnot altogether successful in uprooting this fault. His likes and\ndislikes are pronounced, and are not always according to reason.\nCertain excellent people will side with a pronounced wrongdoer, for no\napparent cause; not necessarily from a charitable desire to give him\nanother chance. Also, the pleasing Indian characteristic of regard for\nfamily relationship, which is so strong, leads to an anxiety to\nbelittle the wrongdoings of anyone who can claim kinship, and this may\nbe carried even to the verge of distortion, or suppression of the\ntruth. Anyhow, the conclusions of the Christian Panchayat are, not\nunfrequently, singularly at variance with what would appear to be the\nright verdict.\n\nThere is another reason why the Panchayat, as applied to Christian\ncongregations, is not altogether wholesome. The true spirit of charity\nis a difficult virtue to acquire. When two people quarrel, unless they\nquickly forgive, they are generally anxious to air their grievance.\nIndians in particular wish the whole matter gone into with\nelaboration, so that, as they say, justice may be done. The Panchayat\ngives exactly the opening which they crave. A quarrel between two\nneighbours, which ought to have been quickly adjusted by mutual\nforgiveness, becomes a subject of endless discussion. Many others get\ndragged into it; and the spirit of discord, instead of being laid to\nrest by the proceedings of the Panchayat, often finds a greatly\nenlarged scope for mischief.\n\nIn bringing a case of immorality before this tribunal the evil is\nintensified. The matter is gone into minutely, with much freedom of\nexpression. Nor does it end there. The members of the Panchayat return\nto their homes, and, with the fullest detail, repeat to wife and\nchildren the incidents that the inquiry has disclosed. For days it is\nthe all-engrossing subject of conversation. \"There is no reserve\namongst us in the sense that you English people have it,\" said a\nleading Indian Christian to me; \"there is nothing which our children\ndo not know.\" Consulting an intelligent Christian Indian on the\ndifficult question as to how much might be said with safety when\nwarning the young on the subject of purity, he replied: \"It is\nimpossible to teach them anything which they do not know already.\nOther people talk to them, and the youngest know all that there is to\nbe known.\"\n\nIt should be added, that although with very few exceptions this is\ncertainly true, the knowledge of evil does not, as a matter of course,\nproduce evil, and there are many Indian Christian lads who, sustained\nby the power of sacramental grace, are leading lives of exemplary\nself-control, while living in circumstances of great temptation.\n\nWhatever may have been the case in years gone by, the out-caste people\nof a village are not now the downtrodden, servile folk such as they\nare commonly supposed to be, although there are still instances of\nindividual oppression. Most of them are leading more wholesome lives\nthan those of the richer, self-indulgent men, and this is evidenced\nby their more vigorous and manly frame. They are, to some extent, at\nthe beck and call of the chief men of the place, and more especially\nof the _Patel_, but they are independent in their bearing, and obey\ncheerfully without cringing. Some of their duties may sound unsavoury.\nAs, for instance, they are responsible for the removal of a dead\ncarcase found within the village boundary. But if it is the body of an\nanimal fit for food, such as a buffalo, sheep, or goat, they feast\nupon it themselves, quite regardless of what disease it may have died\nof.\n\nA buffalo belonging to the Mission died from snake-bite, as it was\nsupposed, though that sometimes is only another name for wilful\npoisoning. The disposal of its immense carcase seemed a perplexity.\nBut just as we were considering this point, we saw the buffalo\ntravelling away at a rapid pace on the shoulders of the village\nMahars, who took it as their natural perquisite, and did not think it\nnecessary to wait for leave. The horns, hoofs, skin, and bones are\nmarketable commodities, so that, besides the feast, they often make a\ngood thing out of agricultural tragedies.\n\nThe same class of men are responsible for any stray burials, which are\nnot at all uncommon in a country where there are many homeless\nwanderers, some of whom, when weary and ill, just lie down by the\nroadside and die. The Mahars of the nearest village bury the nameless\ncorpse. The clothes of the dead man are sufficient recompense for\nhasty interment in a shallow grave, and the jackals the next night\nprobably discover, and make short work of, the corpse. I have seen the\nbody of some such poor wanderer, with scarcely a rag upon it, slung\nupon a pole and carried like a dead dog by a couple of Mahars along\nthe high-road to a place of burial.\n\nMany low-caste men have, of late years, grown prosperous and acquired\nland of their own. In the neighbourhood of cities some of them get\nwell-paid posts as night-watchmen, and as they are often frugal\npeople, they gradually put by a good deal of money. The servants of\nEuropeans are also largely drawn from this class, and a capable\nservant is able to secure wages which, together with pickings in the\nshape of tips and perquisites, enable him to save. The low-caste\npeople of a village often present a brilliant appearance when they\nturn out in holiday attire on some festal day, and the gold ornaments\nof the women sufficiently indicate their prosperous condition. That\nthey have their own quarter, outside the village proper, does not\ncause them any searchings of heart. They come into the village freely,\nand talk and mix with the other people, and Mahar boys often play with\nthe other children. But when there is a village feast they have, of\ncourse, to sit quite apart.\n\n[Illustration: RAGU, THE NIGHT WATCHMAN.]\n\nThere are indications that the village low-caste people are beginning\nto retaliate for whatever oppression they may have had to undergo, by\nbecoming rather insolent to their betters. Some of them are also\nusing the facilities for education which late years have put within\ntheir reach with good effect, and have gradually risen to positions of\nimportance in Government and other service.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nINDIAN ENTERTAINMENTS\n\n     Indian titles. The Inamdar. The _pan supari_ party.\n     Mohammedan saints. The _nautch_; why objectionable. The\n     Inamdar's house; its decorations; furniture. Mohammedan\n     full-dress. The guests; nature of the entertainment. The\n     guests garlanded; no hostess. General conclusions; not an\n     occasion for a missionary.\n\n\nThe titles belonging to Indians of real or imaginary importance take\nup an astonishing amount of space on paper. I received an invitation\nto what is called on the card, a _pan supari_ party. The person who\nissues the invitation is, so the card informs me, \"Sardar Khanbahadur\nKazi Sayed Azimodin Gulamodin Pirzade Inamdar.\" His real name is\nAzimodin. The rest could be dispensed with. He is the Mohammedan chief\nof Yerandawana. Part of the revenue of that village was, at some\ndistant date, allotted to a mosque in Poona City. It is therefore\ncalled an _Inam_ village, and the holder of the grant is called the\n_Inamdar_, the word \"inam\" meaning \"grant.\" A small percentage of the\nGovernment land tax is paid over to the Inamdar, and he has other\nsmall perquisites, such as the fruit of certain trees. He also has\nsome privileges connected with the river which flows past Yerandawana;\nas, for instance, gravel cannot be taken from it without paying him a\nroyalty. He also has certain rights over the stone quarries and the\npasturage on some of the hills.\n\n_Pan supari_ is the betel nut wrapped up in a leaf, which is\ndistributed to guests on festal occasions, and chewed by those who\nlike it. It is one of the few things which can be accepted and eaten\nwithout prejudice to caste. Just as in England you might be asked to a\n\"tea\" party, so here in India we were asked to a _pan supari_ party;\nonly, unfortunately, there is nothing very satisfying in the betel\nnut, although all Indians are fond of it.\n\nMohammedans have a great respect for the memory of those of their\nnumber whom they regard as \"saints\"; whether they are technically or\nactually such does not seem to matter much. Many of their tombs may be\nnoticed in cities and villages, or by the roadside under some\nspreading tree. The festival of each local saint is kept by the\nMohammedans of that locality with prayers and feasting and merrymaking\nfor several days. The occasion of the _pan supari_ party was the\nfestival of the local saint of the mosque which adjoined the Inamdar's\nhouse in the city. The saint's names and titles were also of\nformidable dimensions--\"Peer Sayed Hisamodin Kattal Junjani Chishte.\"\n\nI consulted another friendly Mohammedan as to whether I could safely\naccept the invitation without running the risk of finding myself a\nsharer in festivities of a doubtful character. He said that these sort\nof festivals always commenced with great propriety, but often\ndegenerated as they proceeded. But that the _pan supari_ party to\nwhich English were invited was sure to be eminently respectable, while\nthe concluding days would probably be devoted to singing and dancing\nof the usual dubious kind.\n\nUnfortunately, parties to which English are invited by both Hindus and\nMohammedans are not always free from objectionable features. Not\nunfrequently part of the entertainment is dancing, and sometimes\nsinging, by professional performers. English people sometimes plead\nthat there is nothing particularly objectionable in the nature of the\ndance, and that the singing is in a language which they do not\nunderstand. But it is the character of the women who dance and sing\nwhich some English people are not aware of. They are invariably\nprofessional women of bad character, because no other kind of Indian\nwoman ever takes part in public performances of this nature in the\npresence of men. And it is on this ground that Christians ought always\nto refuse invitations to any festivity in which a _nautch_, or dance,\nis put down as one of the events, stating politely the reason of\nrefusal. Indians often arrange for entertainments of this kind\nbecause they imagine that it is the sort of thing which Europeans\nenjoy. A few officials of high rank have done good service by\nintimating that they do not wish to be entertained in this manner.\n\nI accepted the Inamdar's invitation. I thought it might be useful\nexperience. The hour was from five to six. The address was nearly as\nlong as the host's name--\"Badi Darga, Riverside, Zuni Mandai, in front\nof Shanwar Wada, Kasba Peth, Poona City.\" But, in spite of these\nprecise directions, it would have been a difficult place for anyone to\nfind who was not pretty well acquainted with the labyrinths of the old\ncity.\n\nSometimes one is tempted to smile as one thinks of the splendour of\nEastern entertainments, or of the \"gorgeous East,\" as it exists in the\nimagination of many English people, or in the mind of the newspaper\ncorrespondent of an Eastern tour. The triumphal arch at the entrance\nof the narrow lane leading to the Inamdar's house might have made an\neffective Indian photograph for home consumption. But the poles,\ndraped with pink muslin, were a grateful sight only because they told\nus that we were on the right track. Also, a coat of gravel newly\nspread along the lane was a welcome indication that there was no need\nto walk with the caution which is expedient in most of the streets of\nPoona City.\n\nThe Inamdar's house is by the river side, and the river being at that\ntime in flood and full from bank to bank, it would have been a\npicturesque sight, if it had not been for the colour of the water,\nwhich gave the impression of a river of rolling mud. This is the case\nwith most Indian rivers, and detracts a good deal from their beauty.\nThe buildings forming the Inamdar's establishment enclosed an\nirregular sort of courtyard. On one side of this was the mosque and\nthe tomb of the saint. The residential part of the premises formed\nanother side, into which the mixed assembly of a _pan supari_ party\nwould not be allowed to penetrate. A third side of the courtyard was\noccupied by a long, low, whitewashed shed, open in front, and with a\nfew small windows at the back looking on to the river, and this was\narranged for the reception of the guests. It was elaborately festooned\nwith paper flowers and other adornments, something after the fashion\nof Christmas-tree decorations. The effect was more gay than artistic.\nI have never been able to ascertain where the particular sort of\nfurniture originally came from which adorns the reception-rooms of\nIndians who are in a position to occasionally entertain distinguished\nguests. It is a little like what is sometimes seen on the stage. The\nsofas and chairs are very ornate, and equally uncomfortable. The\ncarpets are often really handsome, because their design and\nmanufacture is an art which is thoroughly understood in the East, and\nin more primitive days they would have formed almost the only\nfurniture of a reception-hall.\n\nOut in the compound were flowers in pots, after the manner of an\nIndian garden, and a few trees, as well as one or two tombs of\nMohammedan saints of a somewhat lower rank than Peer Sayed Hisamodin.\nA strip of red cloth from the place where carriages were to set down,\nindicated that visitors were to make their way into the shed. I was\namongst the earliest arrivals, and was received by the Inamdar and his\nson with all that graceful courtesy which no one knows better how to\nshow than an Indian. The full dress of a Mohammedan is striking and\neffective. They never of course wear the _dhota_, which is the garment\nof Hindus, but they wear instead trousers, fitting very close at the\nfoot, but of great width in the upper part.\n\nI thought it prudent to ask what the order of proceedings would be.\nThey told me that there would be a little music, and distribution of\ngarlands and _pan supari_, and finally dancing. I replied that I could\nnot witness the last item in the programme. The Inamdar's son\nintimated that this item would not come off till later on in the\nevening, when the Europeans would have left. I asked him how they\ncould be willing to receive into their house women of the character of\nthe dancers. He looked sheepish, and was no doubt relieved that\nanother arrival called him away.\n\nWe presented a curious medley when all were assembled. A Hindu\nCollector drove up in his motor car, faultlessly dressed in English\nclothes, and so like a courteous European in his general bearing that,\nexcept for his white and gold turban, it might have been difficult to\nsuppose that he was not one. Many Indians are, comparatively speaking,\nvery fair, and if you are living habitually in the country you become\nalmost oblivious to shades of complexion. The English Collector also\narrived, with his wife. Collectors are, of course, magistrates and\nofficials of importance. The Commissioner of the division followed,\nwho is senior to a Collector. Mohammedans, Hindus, and a few Parsees\narrived, some in smart carriages, a few in hired conveyances, and\nothers on foot. Another motor car with an Indian owner drove up. At\npresent the dash, and go, and smartness of a motor-car seem strangely\nout of keeping with the spirit of leisure, and delay, and general\nshabbiness so marked in things Indian.\n\nWhen the party might be said to be in full swing I do not know that it\nwas much duller, or more pointless, than receptions in England.\nCertainly a cup of tea is more refreshing than the fragment of betel\nnut wrapped up in a leaf and enclosed in a piece of gold paper. Few\nEuropeans have courage to eat it, but it should always be accepted,\nand after your departure you can gladden the heart of any native by\ngiving it to him. A few Indians provide spirituous drinks for their\nEnglish visitors, under the idea that they cannot exist without a\nwhisky peg. And, indeed, it is said that some young English guests\nconfirm this belief by the use they make of the drinks provided.\n\nA couple of Mohammedan men came forward, and seating themselves on a\ncarpet gave a brief musical performance, after which a man sung a song\nwith an air of such comical affectation that it was difficult to\nmaintain the serious gravity with which the Indian part of the\naudience listened to him. Preparations for a photograph of the\nassembled company commencing, it was an indication that it was time\nfor me to depart. All the more distinguished guests had been\npreviously decorated with garlands of pink roses and white jasmine,\nand in addition they were given a kind of sceptre, made of the same\nsort of flowers tied to a short stick. The less remarkable people\nreceived an inferior garland and a single rose with a few leaves, made\nup like a button-hole; and a certain unimportant residuum did not\nreceive any decoration at all.\n\nPerhaps what, to English eyes, appeared the most obvious blot in the\nproceedings was the absence of any hostess. Both the old Inamdar and\nhis son had several wives, but except the English ladies who came as\nguests, there were no females of any sort visible. One of these ladies\nasked me whether the Inamdar would be displeased if she suggested a\nvisit to his wife, because she had once met her at one of those\nparties which some kindly English people have tried to organise for\nthe benefit of the more exclusive women who live behind the _purdah_,\nor curtain. So I told the Inamdar that the Madam Sahib would be\npleased to visit _his_ Madam Sahib. He smiled, and bowed, and made a\nlittle bustle as if he was going to make arrangements for it, but I do\nnot think that anything came of it.\n\nThe point that I was anxious to learn from my attendance at the\nInamdar's party was whether, on the whole, it is advantageous for\nEnglish people to accept such invitations or not. The conclusion that\nI came to was that, since it helps to some extent to bring about a\nmutual understanding, it is a good thing for kindly Government\nofficials and their ladies to do, but that it is not the sort of\noccasion when there is scope for a missionary. As a guest he is bound\nto be courteous to his host, and if any practice is indulged in which\nmay call for rebuke, it is not easy to administer it without the\nappearance of rudeness. Already some modern-minded Hindus urge that\nall religions are alike, and that Christianity being suited to\nEuropeans and the Eastern religions to the people of the East, there\nis no need to change. If the teachers of Christianity share in the\nsocial gatherings of educated Indians with the politeness and\ncordiality which such occasions demand, it may foster the impression\nthat unbelief and idolatry are no real barriers to mutual unity of\nheart, and that one religion is as good as another.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nTHE CONVERSION OF INDIA\n\n     Missions still in the experimental stage. Effect of\n     education on conversion. Brahmins and conversion. Caution\n     needed in time of famine. People applying for work; caution\n     again necessary. India and dissent; rival organisations,\n     effect on the heathen; dissenters drawing to the Church.\n\n\nIt is an evidence of the perplexity which attends mission work in\nIndia that many apparently elementary principles are still undecided\nquestions and subjects of discussion. Things are still in the\nexperimental stage. Almost every conceivable form of missionary\nenterprise has been attempted; but the result is that no one method in\nany department stands out as being signally better than another.\nPerhaps the only definite conclusion that has been arrived at is the\nobvious one, that the man is of more importance than the method, and\nwhere there has been marked progress it has always been the\npersonality of the worker, sanctified and energised by God's grace,\nwhich has been the moving power.\n\nThe conversion of India has been a slower and more difficult task than\nsome people at one time anticipated. Possibly it has been hindered by\ntoo much haste at the outset. India has to be gradually educated up to\nChristianity. At one time it was thought that the best way to do this\nwas to provide an advanced secular education, and that the mind thus\nelevated would be ready to grasp and accept spiritual truths. No doubt\nthis has been the result in a few instances, but the more general\noutcome has been that secular interests have become so absorbing that\nspiritual matters have been crowded out, and the mind has proved less\nrather than more receptive.\n\nGreat efforts have been made to reach the so-called \"high-caste\" men\nof India. This was done, partly under the idea that their traditional\nintelligence and opportunities of education would make them specially\ncapable of religious thought, and partly because it was felt that the\nconversion of some of the leading men of India would surely result in\nthe conversion of the rest. There have been many notable conversions\nof Brahmins, so that these efforts cannot be said to have been wholly\nwithout result. But it must be added that the results do not seem\ncommensurate with the amount of labour and money which has been\nexpended in this particular direction. It was, perhaps, not\nsufficiently taken into account that mere intellect may in itself be a\nbarrier to the reception of spiritual truth, unless there is also the\ngrace of humility and the desire to be taught. A Brahmin who has been\ntrained from his earliest boyhood to think himself worthy of divine\nhonour, naturally finds it difficult to sit at the feet of a foreign\nteacher who preaches the need of repentance.\n\nNor does the conversion of a Brahmin lead to the conversion of other\nIndians to the extent that might have been expected. Possibly the\nunpopularity of Brahmins as a class, although they are still to some\nextent venerated and feared, may partly account for the fact that the\nconversion of some of them has not made others anxious to follow their\nlead. In the case of low-caste people the conversion of a few has, in\nmany instances, led on to the conversion of large numbers. The\nmultitude of village folk who have, at various times, pressed forward\nfor baptism has been in certain places a real perplexity. The clerical\nstaff has been wholly inadequate to deal with them, and the greater\npart of their instruction has had to be left to lay teachers, not very\ncompetent for the task.\n\nIn some of the earlier famines missionaries were not always\nsufficiently alive to the risk of people professing a desire for\nChristianity, when their real motive was the hope of getting special\nconsideration when famine relief was distributed. In some districts\nserious lapses took place after the distress was over. It is now the\nalmost universal rule in missions, in order to avoid the risk of\nimposture, not to baptize any converts during the period when a\ndistrict is suffering from famine. The time of probation before\nbaptism has also been gradually prolonged in most Church missions. But\nsome workers, in their natural eagerness for the extension of Christ's\nkingdom, are perhaps too ready to accept the protestations of ignorant\npeople in poor circumstances who say that they wish to become\nChristians. The work which is given to them as a test is, almost of\nnecessity, lighter than that which they have previously been\naccustomed to do. Whether the limited amount of genuine spiritual\ndesire probable in such cases should be accepted as sufficient, is\ndifficult to decide. Some of the older missions, with an experience\ncovering a long period, make it their invariable rule not to accept a\nreligious inquirer for definite instruction if he is out of work. He\nis told that he must first get work, and then come for instruction.\n\nNot unfrequently people who come to a mission applying for work, say\nthat if this is provided they are willing to become Christians. When\nthe village church of St Crispin was building, quite a number of\nHindus at different times asked for the post of caretaker of the\nbuilding when completed. And when it was urged in reply that a\nChristian church ought to have a Christian caretaker, several of them\nsaid that if the post was given to them, they were ready to conform as\nregards Christianity. Some dissenters still baptize rashly, with\nscarcely any probation and less teaching, and some have drifted so far\nfrom gospel truth that they receive converts into their society\nwithout baptizing them at all.\n\nIndia has both suffered and gained from the number of religious sects\nwho have sent missionaries to convert her. No religious society seems\nto think its machinery complete unless it has a mission in India. The\npoint of view from which she may be said to have gained from this is,\nthat where the need of workers is so great, any Christian teachers who\nare in earnest are, in a sense, welcome. Nor are theological\ndifferences so acute in the pioneer stage of work, when only\nelementary principles are being taught. But, on the other hand, the\nresult is a bewildering multiplication of missionary efforts. Apart\nfrom the amount of conflicting and erroneous teaching which is\nultimately the inevitable outcome, there is a great waste of energy\nand funds in the support of a number of organisations which might be\nconcentrated into one. Also, rivalry amongst missions of conflicting\nopinions has resulted in mission stations being planted in close\nproximity to each other. Roman Catholics in particular are offenders\nin this respect. The consequence is that, while on the one hand some\ndistricts are overdone with mission workers, on the other hand there\nare vast tracts of country without any.\n\nThe varied forms in which Christianity is thus presented is not so\ngreat a stumbling-block to the heathen people as might be thought\nlikely. Hindus and Mohammedans are themselves divided up into such\nnumerous sects that they are not much surprised to find that such is\nthe case amongst Christians. But it is amongst earnest-minded Indians\nwho have been baptized by dissenters that difficulties develop. As the\nspiritual energies of the convert from Hinduism become more\npronounced, he often begins to crave for what the religious system in\nwhich he finds himself is unable to give. If such souls come into\ntouch with Catholic influences, they often discover that it is the\ngrace of the sacraments which their souls are needing, and there is\namongst Indian Christians a fairly steady flow from dissent into the\nChurch.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nMISSION WORK IN INDIA\n\n     Transfer of responsibility to Indians. Clergy desiring\n     independence. Indian characteristics will remain. Want of\n     tidiness; experiences in an Indian Priest's parish. English\n     stiffness. Indian Suffragan Bishops. The Indian Bishop's\n     Confirmation. Changes of head in a mission. English workers\n     losing sympathy; consequent loss; need for prayer concerning\n     this. The opinion of an old missionary; \"too much of the\n     individual, too little of the Holy Spirit.\"\n\n\nOne of the perplexities of mission work in India is how best to\ngradually transfer European responsibility and control to the people\nof the country. Some of the attempts in this direction not having been\naltogether a success, there have been missionaries who, despairing of\nany other arrangement, went into the opposite extreme and endeavoured\nto keep everything in their own hands. Their attitude also towards\ntheir native workers, and even towards their brother priests, was not\nof a nature calculated to draw out loyal and cheerful service.\n\nAmongst Indian clergy there is a widespread desire for greater\nindependence and responsibility, backed up by many of the laity, and\nunless it can be rightly met in some way, it might easily become a\nserious danger. If people are ever to learn to run alone, they must be\ngiven the opportunity of doing so. If some stumble in the attempt,\nthat is only what must be expected at first. Amongst a few failures,\nthere are other instances in which the experiment of leaving the\nmanagement of affairs to Indians has been all that could be wished.\nIndian priests have been put in charge of wide districts which they\nhave shepherded with unwearied labour; and when congregations are\napparently backward in the financial support of their church, they\nwill nearly always rise to the occasion manfully and do all that is\nrequired, if the management of the church funds is definitely put into\ntheir own hands.\n\nIt is a mistake to expect to find in the government of affairs by\nIndians certain characteristics which are essentially English. The\nIndian Christian remains an Indian, and from some points of view it is\nbest that so it should be. Exactness and order and punctuality are\nmatters which most Englishmen think much of. Most Indians think little\nof them, and few pay much attention to them. A really neat house or\nfield is rarely to be seen in native India. The sort of neatness and\norder which an English priest thinks of importance in the church under\nhis care would never be found in the church of even the most\nconscientious Indian priest. It usually takes a long course of\npatient training before the Indian representative of the English\nparish clerk learns how to lay a carpet, or to put kneelers or chairs,\nstraight. And though he learns his lesson at last, and then for ever\ndoes it rightly in the prescribed way, he does not himself see any\nbenefit in it. And the crooked carpet and irregular row of chairs,\nwhich would disturb the devotions of the lady workers in the mission,\nwould never be noticed by a single member of the Indian congregation.\n\nI once spent a night in the village of a devout and widely-known and\nhighly-respected Indian priest, now gone to his rest. Evensong was\nheld in the open air in front of his house, because of certain insect\nintruders which had taken possession of the room which, at that time,\ndid duty as a church. Since those days a permanent church has been\nbuilt. Goats and cattle coming home, and taking short cuts to their\nquarters, were a little disconcerting to the preacher, inexperienced\nin interruptions of the kind, but the regular congregation took it as\na matter of course.\n\nThe next morning I was to celebrate the Holy Eucharist, which, of\ncourse, had to be in the church, in spite of the intruders. I went at\nthe appointed hour and found the Indian priest just beginning to make\npreparations. Vestments and altar linen and many other things were\nmixed up in a box, in complete disorder, and it took him a long time\nto sort out what was needed, and when at last all was ready, the\nresult would have been heart-breaking to an English sacristan. Service\nnecessarily began long after the proper time, but that created neither\nsurprise nor annoyance. The fact being that defects of the kind are\nnot felt to be such by an Indian congregation, so that they did not in\nany way diminish the influence for good of this excellent priest.\n\nIt is often the very stiffness and rigidity of English methods which\nhinders their acceptability amongst Indian people. On the other hand,\nthe Indian priest is more patient in dealing with the people's\ndifficulties. Rustics in England relate the history of a quarrel, or\nsickness, or death at great length. But their tale is brevity itself\ncompared to the Indian's story of a grievance, and he expects to be\nlistened to patiently till he has had his full say. This the Indian\npriest readily does, and he himself is not wearied by the recital. But\nthe English priest, even before the end of the preface, has probably\nsaid that he has no time to listen to all these details, and that they\nmust settle the matter amongst themselves.\n\nThe circumstances of the country at its present stage of development,\nwith a certain number of English, mostly official, gathered into\ncantonments, or scattered here and there in isolated places, and a\nlimited but steadily increasing number of Indian Christians, who are\nfor the most part not in touch with the European element, make an\nIndian bishop for any of the dioceses as at present constituted out of\nthe question. But there are certain country districts covering a wide\narea in which the number of Indian Christians is very great. An Indian\nsuffragan bishop might well be given jurisdiction over one of these\nareas. There are certainly some Indian priests fitted for such a\ntrust. The result would probably be a great growth of spiritual life,\nand wholesome church organisation, and self-support. The tradition of\nan Indian bishop for Indians getting established in this way there\nwould eventually, if he acquitted himself well in his limited sphere,\nbe no difficulty about his ministering to English congregations when\nit was convenient that he should do so.\n\nBut it should be observed that the Indian bishop must be allowed to\nretain his own individuality, and to do his diocesan work in his own\nEastern way. Very possibly he will arrive for his Confirmation long\nafter the appointed time, even if he does not send a message at the\nlast moment to say that he will come to-morrow. If, by any misfortune,\nthere should be a European in the expectant congregation, he will say\nindignantly that this is what comes of appointing Indian bishops. But\nthe Indian congregation will be quite undisturbed. Those who happen to\nhave come punctually will sit about in the church compound, in the\nsun or shade according to the time of day, and chat happily till the\nbishop arrives. His lateness would not create the least shade of\nannoyance. He himself will probably have to wait in his turn for the\ncandidates from a neighbouring village who were vague about the time.\nBut he will do so with the utmost cheerfulness. Except that\nunpunctuality means waste of time, it will have no other drawback.\n\nWhen the actual Confirmation takes place after these possible delays,\nit will be carried out by the Indian bishop with the greatest\nsolemnity. He and the candidates will have the fullest faith in the\nwondrous Gift bestowed by means of the imposition of the Apostolic\nhands. His address will be powerful and persuasive, and given with\nfull knowledge of the characteristics of the people of his own\ncountry. Everyone will return to their homes happy and thankful, and\nin telling their tale of the wonders of the day it will not probably\noccur to anybody to mention that the bishop arrived late.\n\nNow and then mission stations suffer, somewhat in the same way as a\nparish here and there in England does, from the change of policy\nbrought about by a change of head. It is in practical, rather than in\nreligious matters, that a new head is sometimes the cause of unrest.\nMissions being at present chiefly worked by societies which have their\nown theological bias, the new-comer is generally of the same way of\nthinking as his predecessor. But anyone coming to India for the first\ntime, in spite of everything being new and strange, is apt to think\nthat he sees his way clearly, and that the work has got into a rut and\nthat a general upheaval is necessary. The tendency of the Indian is to\nbe conservative of established traditions. He does not say much, but\nhe has his own way of showing the new head that he does not approve of\nhis changes. Some resign office, of others it is decided that they\nhave been too long at their posts, and the result is that a certain\nnumber of old and faithful workers cut themselves, or are themselves\ncut adrift. The new head ultimately establishes his position, and many\nof his changes are probably improvements, but this has been\naccomplished at considerable sacrifice. Missions worked by communities\nare not wholly free from the same defect, though they suffer less than\nothers.\n\nEnglish workers do not always retain the spirit of sympathy and\ngraciousness with which they began their ministry in India. The\ndefects of the Indian character are particularly galling to some\nEnglishmen. The sort of faults which the average Englishman is least\nwilling to condone are unpunctuality, untidiness, promises not kept,\ninexact answers and false excuses, forgetfulness of favours received\nbut fresh favours asked for, slovenly work, laziness, and obstinacy.\nWhen the missionary first meets his flock he sees pleasant and\ncourteous manners, and readiness to please and to obey, a certain\naptitude and handiness in work, a real spirit of devotion, and many\nsuch-like qualities. The dark skin, the picturesque dress or absence\nof dress, the bare feet and light graceful walk, all these things\nappeal to the new-comer.\n\nAs time goes on he has to deal with the realities of things.\nDifficulties, failures, disappointments have to be faced. A reaction\nsets in. He thinks that the people need a firmer hand, that they have\nbeen dealt with too lightly. He no longer keeps the good side\nuppermost, and begins to see only the defects. He gets the mission\npossibly into good external order, but much of the grace and beauty of\nhis ministry goes out in the process, and there will be no attractive\nforce at work to draw in the heathen. The worker in India needs to\npray constantly that the spirit of love and sympathy, and the yearning\nto help souls with which he began, may never be allowed to grow less;\nthat he may retain his spirit of buoyancy; that he may keep hopeful\nand expectant; and that while firm and strong with the people who need\nhis support, he may only love them the more when he has learnt really\nto understand and know them.\n\nA missionary in India of long and wide experience wrote that he had\noften pondered as to the reason why the Church in that land has never\nbecome a real indigenous plant. He went on to say--\"Even if we were to\nput aside the tradition of St Thomas having preached here, we know\nthat, at any rate from the eighth century onwards, with only a few\nintermissions, there has been Christian effort at work in the\ncountry.\" The conclusion that he came to was that \"there has been too\nmuch of the individual and too little of the Holy Spirit. St Francis\nXavier baptized thousands of children, and then went his way. The\nChurch has always depended on foreign aid, and when left to itself has\neither died away or kept itself alive by maintaining a sort of\nChristian caste. The Eastern people are, to a certain extent, pliant\nand easily led. The somewhat masterful foreign missionary had bent the\npeople to his will and his ways. The house has been built square and\nsolid, and finished in appearance. But it is a building, not a plant.\nIt has not within it the power of life and growth. There has been more\nbuilding than sowing. It depends on the force of the individual, and\nbut little room is left for the power of the Holy Spirit to make it\nreally fruitful.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nINDIAN MUSIC\n\n     Women singing as they grind. Singing to the bullocks.\n     Singing on the road. The rest-house. Soldiers singing.\n     Palanquin bearers. Indian taste in music. Indian musical\n     instruments. The native band. The \"Europe\" band. Sir G.\n     Clarke on Indian music. Evil associations of native tunes.\n     Indian choir-boys.\n\n\nOne of the commonest sounds in India is that of women grinding at the\nmill. You not only hear the grating of the revolving stone, but since\nit is a hard and monotonous task, the toilers almost invariably\nenliven it by singing. They do so rather melodiously, and it sounds\npleasant in the distance. Their songs are to a large extent made up on\nthe spur of the moment, and form a sort of running comment on what\nthey are doing, or on what is going on around them.\n\nThis custom of singing in order to relieve the monotony of labour is\nuniversal in certain departments, and even the beasts get to look upon\nit as a stimulus to work. When drawing water from the wells, the man\nin charge of the operation invariably encourages the bullocks with a\ncheery sing-song, at the critical moment when they are raising the\nheavy leather pouch of water from the well, and if he was to remain\nsilent, the Indian bullock, who is a strong conservative, would\ncertainly refuse to start. When they travel round and round, working\nthe mill which squeezes the juice out of the sugar cane, or, in the\nsame fashion, causing the great stone wheel to revolve which grinds\nthe mortar, their master alternately whips them and sings to them. I\nonce listened to the song which the man sung when they were making\nmortar. It was something like this--\"Oh bullocks! what a work you are\ndoing. Going round and round making mortar for the masons. Oh\nbullocks! go faster, go faster! The masons will cry out, oh bullocks,\nfor more mortar--more mortar. So, go faster, go faster,\" etc., etc.\n\nOn bright moonlight nights large parties of men and women come\ntrotting briskly along the Yerandawana road, bearing baskets of fruit\non their heads for the Poona market. Indians nearly always go at a\ntrot if they have an unusually heavy burden to carry far, and it\nappears to make their task easier. I do not know whether other nations\nhave the same custom. There are many reasons why travelling by night\nis preferable. The air is cool and pleasant, there is no scorching sun\nto injure the fruit, and it gets into market in good time before the\nrush of business commences. A charitable Hindu has built a rest-house\nfor the benefit of travellers, just opposite the gateway of the\nvillage mission. Such rest-houses are to be found all over India.\nThey are only what we in England would call a shed, but they provide\nas much shelter as the climate demands, and they are a great boon to\nthe many who travel the roads on business or pleasure. The Yerandawana\nrest-house is often thronged with people, because it is so near Poona\nthat they can get some hours sleep, and yet get into market early. But\nthe travellers, who go swiftly along the road with their burden of\nfruit, often sing delightfully in chorus for the greater part of the\nway, so that what is really a task of great toil seems almost\ntransformed into a cheerful excursion.\n\nIndian soldiers on the march are sometimes allowed to sing as they go,\nor occasionally to whistle, which has a delightful effect. Some years\nback, when visitors could only reach certain hill-stations by being\ncarried in a palanquin, unless they were sturdy climbers, because the\nsteep paths were not practicable for wheels, the team of six or eight\ncoolies who acted as bearers, turn and turn about, sung a good deal,\nespecially in the more difficult parts of the journey. They did not\nrealise that the Sahib they were carrying sometimes understood the\nvernacular, and was able to appreciate their poetical comments on his\nweight, or their musical speculations as to what sort of tip he was\nlikely to give them at the end of the journey.\n\nPeople sometimes ask whether Indians are musical. It is difficult to\nsay. Indian taste in music is certainly peculiar, and perhaps\ndeserves greater study than it has yet secured. But it would lead the\ncasual listener to suppose that music amongst them is still in the\nelementary stage, corresponding somewhat to the scales and time\nexercises of the beginner. At the Inamdar's afternoon party, the\nmusical performance given by the two Mohammedans (p. 80) was probably\na fair sample of what would be considered refined music. One of the\nperformers had a kind of guitar with a large body, made out of a gourd\nwith a section sliced off and then faced with wood, and with a very\nlong stem. The whole instrument, with all its fittings, was\nexquisitely made.\n\nThe other man had a large and peculiar instrument, called a _bin_, in\nwhich the long keyboard is supported at each end with a big gourd.\nThere dried gourds are largely in request for musical purposes. The\n_bin_ was also artistically finished, and adorned with brasswork and\ninlaid woods. It had five or six strings. The performer played on it\nwith his fingers after the manner of a guitar, one of the gourds\nresting on his shoulder. These instruments being so attractive in\nappearance, and apparently large and powerful, and the two Mohammedans\nsetting to work with great solemnity, and a commendable hush coming\nover the assembled company, I expected a musical treat. The performers\nbegan by tuning up with great care; but the tuning continued so long\nthat I began to wonder how soon the real music would begin. Just then\nthe musicians ceased, and I found that the apparent tuning was the\nactual performance and that it was all over. The audience appeared to\nbe pleased with what they heard.\n\nFor the more popular kind of music you must go to the native band,\nwhich is the universal adjunct to every sort of entertainment, great\nor small. The members of the band are unwearied in their exertions on\nsmall drums and shrill pipes. The tune, which never seems to vary\nwhatever the occasion, consists of almost as few notes as the song of\nan Indian bird, and it is played over and over again and no one grows\nweary of it. Even the performers play it for the thousandth time with\nalmost as much enthusiasm as when they first began. When they have\nplayed far into the night, and fall asleep from sheer exhaustion, they\nwake up in the morning to begin again.\n\nThough native instruments and the method of playing them does not\nusually appeal to the English ear, except for condemnation, it must\nalso be said that Indians in general assert that they do not recognise\nany particular beauty in English melodies; and the wealth of sound of\na full band, performing the composition of some great master, only\nsuggests to the Eastern mind a confused medley of meaningless noise.\nAt the weddings of wealthy men who wish to make a special display,\nthere sometimes appears what they call a \"Europe\" band, which consists\nof Indian performers, dressed in cast-off uniforms and with Western\ninstruments, on which they play what are meant to be English popular\nairs. But there is usually the old-fashioned band also in attendance,\nand there is no question as to which band the guests really cared to\nlisten.\n\nThe truth appears to lie in the fact that the two nations are looking\nfor different effects in music. Europeans value the melody, and the\nharmony which enriches it. Easterns care little for the melody,\ndislike the harmony, but think everything of the time. It is the\nunvaried repetition of the same meagre tune, repeated over and over\nagain with apparently wearisome monotony, which is the attractive\nfeature. And the amount of pleasure to be found in listening to any\nmusical exercise is proportionate to the skill of the performer in\nbeating out his even measure on drum, or pipe, with unwearied\npertinacity.\n\nSir George Clarke, Governor of Bombay, at a meeting of an Indian\nChoral Society in Poona, in August 1911, in sketching the diverse\ndevelopments of Eastern and Western music, suggested that the tones of\nthe instruments in vogue had affected the art of singing, and that the\nfalsetto style, common amongst Indians, is in imitation of the\nshrillness of their reed instruments, while the fuller voice,\ncultivated in Europe, follows the development of the ampler harmonies\nof Western instruments. Each style of music represents a cultivation\nof certain qualities with a neglect of others. The ultimate result of\nintelligent study should be the combination of the great qualities of\nboth into a richer music than either East or West has known hitherto.\nSir George Clarke went on to say that, before Indian music could\ndevelop or become widely known, it must be reduced to some\nintelligible method of writing. Progress in this direction seems\nrather slow at present, and Indian music is really in the position of\nan illiterate struggling against a highly educated competitor.\n\nSome attempt has been made to adapt Indian tunes to the translations\nof English hymns, but without signal success. Also, Indian Christian\nconverts do not encourage the attempt. They say that the few popular\nnative tunes are so suggestive of the indecent songs to which they are\ngenerally sung, that it is impossible to use them safely. English\npopular melodies which some people, especially dissenters, have\nadapted for religious use have no associations of this kind. The only\ndoubtful point in their adaptation is the risk of introducing an\nelement of comedy.\n\nChristian Indians get to like the tunes usually associated with the\nEnglish hymns which have been translated into their vernacular, and\nthey sing them with spirit. Indian choir-boys often give sufficient\npromise to indicate that, if they could be given the skilled training\nwhich is generally lacking, they would not fall behind their English\nbrothers in sweetness of voice and delicacy of expression.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nINDIAN MEALS\n\n     Stones for grinding grain. Exclusively women's work.\n     Elaborate inspection of the grain. Food a matter of much\n     interest. The meals of a Hindu. Difference between Indian\n     and English custom. Even beggars fastidious. Refinement of\n     native dishes. What the daily bread is like. Hindu caution\n     after the bath.\n\n\nIn the last chapter we spoke of the women singing when they are\ngrinding at the mill. The grinding-stones of their handmills are of\nvarious sizes. The smaller ones are rather more than a foot in\ndiameter, and can be worked by one person. The lower millstone is let\ninto the ground. The upper one has an upright wooden handle stuck into\nit near the edge. The grinder sits on the ground close to the stones,\nand grasping the handle causes the upper stone to revolve vigorously.\nThe larger stones have two handles, and then two women work together.\nThey often go on grinding for some hours, generally beginning in the\nearly morning while it is still cool. By preference they only grind\nwhat is required for the day's use, because the freshly-ground flour\nis thought to make the best bread. But in the case of schools, or the\nlarge composite families of prosperous Hindus, a large quantity of\nflour is needed daily.\n\nThe custom of grinding the grain at home is almost universal, because\nof the adulteration of flour sold ready ground. There are numbers of\nworking women whose sole occupation is that of grinding at various\npeople's houses, and though it is hard work, they earn in return what\nis to them a pretty good living. It is curious that men apparently\nnever lend a hand in this department, even if the wife is poor and\nsickly, and sorely in need of help. It appears to be regarded as such\nan absolutely feminine employment, that a man would be disgraced if he\nput his hand to the mill at all. Even Christians have not quite\nsucceeded in shaking off this idea.\n\nCareful housewives go over all the grain minutely before it is ground,\nso as to make quite sure that no bit of husk, or defective grain,\nfinds its way into the mill. This is a long and troublesome process.\nWatching a Christian woman engaged in this occupation, I said\nsomething to her husband with reference to its being rather a toil. \"I\nalways have the grain prepared in this way,\" he said cheerfully. \"Do\nyou never help your wife?\" I asked. \"No,\" he smilingly answered, \"but\nour little girl does.\"\n\nEver since the earth began to be inhabited by man and woman, food has\nbeen a delicate subject to deal with, and probably the larger number\nof domestic quarrels find their origin in this department of the\nhousehold. In India, certainly, food is a subject of prominent\nimportance in the minds of the people of the country. Well-to-do\nHindus find their chief interest and pleasure in the two big meals of\nthe day. Very few practise any real asceticism concerning food. An\northodox Hindu does not break his fast until he has taken his bath and\nworshipped his household gods, so that he is habitually fasting till\nnearly noon. But those who have been always accustomed to this say\nthat it causes them no inconvenience. It must also be remembered that\ntheir evening meal is nearly always very late. If guests are expected,\nand the preparations more elaborate than usual in consequence, the\nmeal may be delayed till ten o'clock or later.\n\nBut at these two principal meals the Indian, if he can afford it, eats\na large quantity. It is not merely that his appetite should be\nsatisfied, but if the meal is to be regarded as a satisfactory one\nthere must be the physical sensation of repletion, and the diner does\nnot need to eat again for several hours. Nevertheless he nibbles odds\nand ends of spices and fruits and sweets a good deal in the course of\nthe day. The custom of early tea, with some accompaniment, has become\ngeneral with Indians who have got a little familiar with English ways.\n\nEasterns are astonished at the frequency of English meals, under the\nidea apparently that we eat to repletion three or four times a day,\ninstead of only twice as they do. The breakfast bell rang when two or\nthree young Indian students were talking in the verandah, and they\nasked if they might come and see our table spread for the meal. We\ngladly assented, and explained the use and nature of the things set\nupon it. Fortunately it was not a beef day, and they seemed relieved\nto find that there was nothing terrible on view. But they expressed\ngreat surprise at what appeared to them the small amount of food\nprovided, and we were able to point out the difference between English\nand Indian customs in this respect, and that though our number of\nmeals daily is greater, we eat less than they do on each occasion.\n\nA very large number of Indians, both Christian and heathen, live on\npoor fare and go to bed hungry. This is from necessity, not from\nchoice. The poorest man is particular in his degree as to what he\neats, more especially as to the manner in which his food has been\nprepared. Even the beggar off the road will unblushingly and loudly\ngrumble if the fare at a feast to which he has been invited by some\nwealthy man is not exactly to his mind. The children of mission\nschools, many of whom have come out of lives of real privation, are\nsometimes very critical about their meals, and more especially as to\nhow it has been cooked, and they will leave a good supper uneaten and\ngo hungry to bed because of some trifling defect in the manner of its\npreparation.\n\nMost Indian women have been taught how to cook from early childhood,\nand many of them are experts and take much pleasure in their art. Some\nof the native dishes take a great deal of care and toil to prepare,\nand except that their tendency is to be rather too pungent for the\nEnglish palate, a really first-class Indian dinner is refined in\nappearance; and in the variety of dishes, provided there are always\ncertain things which can be eaten with pleasure. The varied objects\nwhich make up the meal are neatly grouped before each guest, and they\nare meant to be taken in a certain order, so that the palate will be\nconstantly renovated for the next dish which it is to taste.\n\nEven the ordinary daily bread, in the form in which Indians like to\neat it, gives a great deal of trouble to those who have to get it\nready. Not only is there the grinding of the flour to be done, but it\nhas next to be made up into thin flat cakes which look something like\npancakes, which are then lightly baked on a hot plate, and are eaten\nat once by preference while hot. The preparation and baking of these\nmeans that the women of the household have been busy in the kitchen\nfrom an early hour, especially in Christian schools, where the\nchildren's day begins earlier than in most Hindu households. Hindu\nschools and colleges commence work very late in the day, because of\nthe necessity of getting the bathing and feeding over first.\n\nEven the most orthodox Hindus have now no scruples about touching\nChristians, except after they have taken their bath, but previous to\ntheir meal. Having occasion to consult a Brahmin pleader rather\nfrequently concerning the purchase of some land, he always made a\npoint of shaking hands rather effusively, with an eye to business. But\nI called one morning when he had just emerged from his bath, and he\nwas then careful to keep at a safe distance, because contact would\nhave involved the necessity of bathing again before he took his food,\nin order to get rid of the ceremonial pollution.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nHINDU PHILOSOPHY\n\n     The barrenness of Hinduism. _The Golden Threshold_; its\n     authoress--her poetry; the four kinds of religion; her\n     motherly instincts; her letters; her father; her search for\n     beauty; her portrait. Rarity of happy Hindu faces. The\n     picture of \"Jerome.\"\n\n\nPeople sometimes say, when asking about Hinduism, \"Surely if the\nidolatry, and folly, and indecency, which we know exists in the\nreligion as it now is could be cleared away, we should find remaining\nsome deep philosophic thoughts and mystical poetical fancies which we\nmight admire?\"\n\nThe reply to this question is that, if Hinduism was subjected to this\npurging process, what would be left would be practically nothing at\nall. This can be strikingly illustrated in the following way.\n\nAn Indian lady, Mrs Sarojini Naidu, has published a little volume of\npoems called _The Golden Threshold_. There is an introduction to the\nbook by Mr Arthur Symons, giving a few particulars of the life of the\nauthoress. She is apparently a thoroughgoing Hindu, although one of\nsufficient independence of character to marry another Hindu who was\nnot a Brahmin like herself, and on that account meeting with obloquy\nfrom her own people. She is evidently a highly cultivated lady,\nknowing English perfectly. But though she has lived in England, and\ntravelled much, there is nothing to indicate that she has been touched\nin any way by Christianity. She has had, therefore, only Hinduism from\nwhich to get poetic thoughts connected with religion. She is evidently\na true poet, and if there had been anything in the religion capable of\nsuggesting poetic ideas she would have certainly found it. She has\nundoubtedly a mind of great refinement, so that all that is otherwise\nin connection with Hinduism has to be eliminated from the field in\nwhich she could gather poetic thought. What, then, is the result?\nWhile there is a distinct charm in the rhythm of her verses, their\nutter emptiness makes them of no real value. The only poem, curiously\nenough, in which a deeper note is struck is when she describes the\nfour kinds of religion which flourish under the kindly rule of H.H.\nthe Nizam of Hyderabad: the Mohammedan, the Hindu, the Parsee, and the\nChristian. The verse is as follows:--\n\n    \"The votaries of the Prophet's faith,\n       Of whom you are the crown and chief;\n    And they who bear on Vedic brows\n       Their mystic symbols of belief;\n    And they who worshipping the sun,\n       Fled o'er the old Iranian sea;\n    And they who bow to Him who trod\n       The midnight waves of Galilee.\"\n\nEach religion is happily touched with a delicate hand. To get a\nsuitable idea concerning each into a couple of lines of real poetry\nshows a gifted mind, and the two last lines are specially happy. (The\ncapital letter in the pronoun is so printed in the book.) Her mind\ncoming thus into brief contact with higher and truer things, she rises\nin the concluding verse to a kind of benediction on this beneficent\nMohammedan ruler, which almost approaches the nature of a prayer:--\n\n    \"God give you joy, God give you grace,\n       To shield the truth and smite the wrong,\n    To honour Virtue, Valour, Worth,\n       To cherish faith and foster song.\n    Your name within a nation's prayer,\n       Your music on a nation's tongue.\"\n\nThe only other poem which rises above the mere commonplace is that in\nwhich Queen Gulnaar expresses the unsatisfied condition of her heart\nbecause she has no rival to her beauty, and with none to envy, life\nhas no savour. Although seven beautiful brides are sent for and\nbrought before her, she remains without a rival. Finally, with\ndelight, she finds what she sought for in her own little two-year-old\ndaughter. But it was not her religion which supplied the poetess with\nthis pretty fancy. It arose out of her own motherly instincts, which\namongst Easterns are charmingly dominant.\n\nThere are in the Introduction some extracts from Mrs Naidu's letters\nwhich show that if there was anyone who might have been expected to\ndiscover anything beautiful in Hinduism, or suggestive of true\nphilosophy, or capable of being idealised in any way, she was the\nperson who would have done so. She says herself: \"My ancestors for\nthousands of years have been lovers of the forest and mountain caves,\ngreat dreamers, great scholars, great ascetics. My father is a dreamer\nhimself, a great dreamer.... I suppose in the whole of India there are\nfew men whose learning is greater than his.... He holds huge courts\nevery day in his garden, of the learned men of all religions. Rajahs\nand beggars and saints, and downright villains all delightfully mixed\nup. And then his alchemy!... But this alchemy is only the material\ncounterpart of a poet's craving for beauty, the eternal beauty....\nWhat in my father is the genius of curiosity, is in me the desire for\nbeauty.\"\n\nShe is described as being the embodiment of the wisdom of the East,\nher intellectual development such as to make her a wise counsellor,\ncombined with \"passionate tranquillity of mind.\"\n\nYet with this long ancestry of dreamers, and her own intellectual\ncapacity, and her poetic craving to find beauty, which even Nature did\nnot satisfy (because what is Nature without Nature's God?), she\nobviously finds Hinduism completely barren of what she was yearning\nfor, and apparently not having searched for it anywhere else except in\nNature, she never comes at it at all. She appears to have been struck\nby something in the faces of the monks that she saw in Italy, and she\n\"at one moment longs to attain to their peace by renunciation.\" But as\nthe secret of their peace was not known to her, it only makes her long\nfor Nirvana, or final nothingness.\n\nHer portrait at the beginning of the book represents a touching type\nof face which one meets with not unfrequently in India. The expression\nis dull and lifeless. There is none of the light which shines out of\nthe face of a Christian Indian. But there is at the same time an\nexpression of wistful longing for that hidden treasure which Hinduism\ncould not give her, even when purged of its defilements. The result of\nwhich is, that her poetic mind has had to waste itself upon such\nthemes as nightfall at Hyderabad, or the alabaster box in which she\ntreasures her spices, or the bride weeping because her lord is dead.\n\nIt is no exaggeration to say that a really happy-looking Hindu is a\nrare sight, even when on pleasure bent. Childhood in the Hindu world\nhas its flashes of fun, but except in the passing excitement of some\nromping game, the faces of the children are usually as dull as those\nof their elders. Two Hindu boys were looking at the picture in the\nstory-book of \"Jerome, the Brahmin boy,\" in which the photographs\ntaken on his first arrival is reproduced, showing his Hindu pigtail,\nand the paint marks on his forehead, and his sacred thread. Contrasted\nwith this is the photograph taken soon after his baptism. I do not\nsuppose that the boys understood the full significance of the\npictures, and this made the comment of one of them the more valuable.\n\"There is a great difference,\" he said, \"between these two pictures.\nIn the first the boy has a very bad face. But in the other picture it\nis very good.\" An English boy, writing in a letter on the subject of\nthe same picture, says of Jerome as a Christian, \"He looks twice as\nhappy as when he was a heathen.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nHINDUS AND RELIGION\n\n     Irreverence in Hindu temples. Robbing the god. Burial of\n     gods. Justice in native states. Giving the title of \"god\" to\n     people. The god's relations. Hindu conception of god; of\n     prayer. Nominal Hindus. The old army pensioner. The \"thread\"\n     ceremony.\n\n\nWhatever the Hindu conception of a god may be, their behaviour in\ntheir temples shows that it is something entirely different to the\nideas which a Christian associates with the name of God. The greatest\nirreverence, from our point of view of what irreverence means, is\ncontinually going on in a Hindu temple in the presence of the idol, to\nwhich homage is done as to a god, and which is the object of a good\ndeal of ceremonial attention from the person whose business it is to\npay it. Talking loudly, and laughing and joking, children romping\nabout; all this is evidently not felt to be out of place in the\ntemple, because it goes on habitually, and apparently unrebuked.\nCard-playing is constantly carried on in those larger temples in which\nthere is a space in front of the idol, and evidently nobody objects.\nIndians are great card-players, and they play with a persistency and\nabsorbed interest such as the most inveterate bridge-player could\nscarcely emulate. They often play for the greater part of the day and\nhalf the night, and generally for stakes of some sort, however small.\n\nNor does even robbing the god involve the idea that the god has power\nto take revenge, because some of the village boys have told me, as a\nhuge joke, of their exploits in robbing their idol of the offerings\nmade to it. People bring small gifts of money, or fruit, or\nsweetmeats, and deposit them near the idol. These are the recognised\nperquisites of the custodian of the temple. But in the case of a\nvillage temple this official is often also engaged in secular\nbusiness, so that the boys watch their opportunity and, in his\nabsence, appropriate the offering before he returns.\n\nApparently burial in a river is a seemly way of disposing of a god. A\nman was anxious to sell us a plot of land in a certain village, but\nthere was on it a very primitive temple, fenced in with a few sticks\nand stones. Within this enclosure were several shapeless stone gods,\npainted with vermilion. We said that if we bought the site the temple\nwould have to be removed first. The man replied that there would be no\ndifficulty about that, because the gods could be buried in the river.\nThe god is then supposed to leave the stone and pass out into the\nsacred stream. The mud figures of the god _Gunpatti_, which people\nannually enshrine in their houses for ten days, are then taken in\nprocession to the river and placed in the water, where, of course,\nthey quickly dissolve.\n\nThat even the word _God_ has for Hindus an entirely different\nsignificance to that which it has for us, indicates how hopelessly\nmisleading our theological expressions may be in the mouths of\nEnglish-speaking Hindus. A small party of Hindus called at the Mission\nbungalow to make a request on behalf of a friend who lived in one of\nthe native states. They affirmed that it was an impossibility to get\njustice in a law-court in one of these states, except through the\nintervention of the British Resident. They therefore asked me for a\nletter of introduction to this official, with a request that justice\nmight be done them. The fact that I did not know the Resident, or the\napplicant, or any of the facts of the case did not appear to them to\nbe an obstacle to my granting them their petition.\n\nSo hoping to attain their end by ingratiating themselves with me, they\nbegan by adopting the methods which presumably are found to be\nefficacious amongst Easterns. After profound salaams on all sides,\nthey refused to sit on the chairs which I offered them, but chose\nhumbler seats instead as a tribute to my own greatness. Flattery was\nthe next process, and after descanting on my accomplishments the chief\nspokesman finished up by saying, \"In fact I may say you are _god_.\"\nWhen I pointed out the monstrosity of Hindu teaching which could\npossibly allow the word to be applied to any human being, the Hindu\nexplained that anyone whom you hold in estimation may be called god.\n\nLooking at the large framed photograph of the Indian editor, Mr Tilak,\nwho was deported out of the country for several years on account of\nthe seditious nature of his newspaper, the owner of the photograph\nsaid to me, \"He is a very good man; in fact he is our god.\"\n\nA young student sat talking till dusk began to fall. The interval\nbetween light and darkness is brief in tropical India. The student got\nup and said he must hasten home. I asked him if he was afraid of the\ndark. He said, \"No, my god takes care of me.\" I asked him which of his\nmany gods would do this. He said, \"Very likely Mahadeva.\" I asked him\nwhere all the millions of gods lived. He said, \"In heaven.\" I asked if\nthey all got on happily together. He said, \"Of course.\" But then he\nadded, \"There is only one real god; the others may, as it were, be\nregarded as his relations\"--which was a novel explanation of Hindu\nmythology.\n\nThough the ordinary Hindu conception of the characteristics of a god\ndoes not include holiness, the sort of characteristic which may be\nlooked for can be illustrated by a question which an intelligent Hindu\nlad asked me when I was showing him the church. \"And what _battles_\ndid your Christ fight?\" said the boy. His visit to the church was\napparently his first contact with Christianity, and he listened with\nrespectful attention as I told him of the Son of God coming as the\nPrince of Peace.\n\nAsking an intelligent Brahmin convert what is the Hindu conception of\nprayer, he replied that with them its object is entirely a selfish\none. A Hindu prays for his own worldly prosperity--that his crops may\nbe good, that his business may succeed, that his children may marry\nwell and become rich. Asking the same informant whether Hindus pray\nfor others, he laughed and said, \"No, never; except for the members of\ntheir own family.\"\n\nThe number of Hindus who are only nominal adherents is probably much\ngreater than is generally supposed, because many of them still retain\nthe outward marks of a religion in which they have ceased to believe.\nMost of these have not become atheists, but they are feeling after a\ntrue God, and those who are in earnest in their search come as near to\nHim as their imperfect knowledge allows.\n\nAn old Brahmin came into the verandah of the Mission bungalow, and\nsitting down, said very seriously, \"Now tell me about your Christ.\" He\nwas an army pensioner with two medals. He was seventy-five years of\nage, which is considered very old for an Indian. His only knowledge of\nChristianity had been gathered up in a vague way from the few\nChristians he had rubbed up against in the course of military\nwanderings, including a few missionaries. Yet even the amount of\ncontact had been a help to him. Hindus sometimes are drawn towards\nChristianity by contact with even rather nominal Christians.\n\nI asked the old Brahmin if he ever went to the village temple. \"There\nis no temple,\" he replied rather fiercely. On my assurance that he was\nmistaken, he said: \"Then if there is one, I have never seen it. I go\nto no temple. I pray to God in heaven.\" \"The _one_ God,\" he added with\nemphasis. Yet he had the usual red paint marks neatly inscribed on his\nforehead, and his Brahmin's thread, like a long skein of cotton, was\nworn sash-like next his skin, but just peeping out a little at the\nneck for the people to see. Anyone meeting him would have taken him\nfor a most uncompromising and orthodox Hindu.[1]\n\n[Footnote 1: His portrait is to be found opposite p. 23, in\n_Thirty-Four Years in Poona City_.]\n\nAfter I had explained to another Brahmin the meaning of baptism, and\nthat no one is a Christian until he is baptized, the Brahmin said:\n\"Baptism seems very similar to our _thread_ ceremony. Till a boy has\nreceived his thread he is not permitted to read the sacred scriptures\nor to take part in religious functions. He may be the son of Hindu\nparents, but he does not become a real Hindu until he has been\ninvested with the thread.\"\n\nI asked what then was the condition of those castes who are not\nentitled to wear the thread. He said that there was no ceremony of\ninitiation for them, and so that they remained outside. I replied\nthat, if this was so, it was very hard that the large majority of\nIndians should be left out in the cold. He agreed, and said that this\nundoubtedly was one of the weak points in their religion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nRELIGIOUS PHASES IN INDIA\n\n     Hindus and Roman Catholicism. Parsees and Christianity.\n     Their works of charity. Persian visitors. Religious\n     controversy. Mr Hole's pictures. Hindu family quarrels.\n     Indian repartee. Appreciation of the dignity of labour.\n\n\nEnglish-speaking Hindus, who are often eager to talk about religious\nmatters, are inclined to take up the cudgels in favour of\nProtestantism, as compared with Roman Catholicism. But meeting an\nintelligent Brahmin in a train in the Mysore State, he did just the\nreverse, showing an unusual knowledge of ecclesiastical affairs. \"Do\nyou know how the Pope is elected?\" he asked of an old engine-driver\nwho happened to be a fellow-traveller, who seemed rather embarrassed\nby such an unlooked-for question from such a source. \"It is the most\nextraordinary thing on earth,\" the Brahmin went on to say, and he\nproceeded to describe pretty accurately the process of election.\n\n\"Now if the Pope was to come to St Paul's Cathedral, would your\nArchbishop of Canterbury receive him with due respect as the greatest\ndignitary on earth?\" asked the Brahmin.\n\nI said that the circumstances were not very likely to occur, but that\nif they did, I had no doubt the Pope would be received with the\nrespect due to his office.\n\n\"And if your Archbishop went to Italy, would he stay with the Pope?\"\nsaid the Brahmin.\n\nI replied that I did not think it likely that he would get an\ninvitation, but that if he did, he would probably accept it. The\nBrahmin at times made use of semi-profane expressions when talking\nEnglish. \"Good Lord! what a crowd,\" he said, putting his head into the\nwindow of a carriage when we were changing at a junction. But in spite\nof his knowledge of ecclesiastical affairs, he called on the Hindu god\n_Rama_ when settling down for the night.\n\nMeeting a Parsee, who having been educated at a Roman Catholic school\nknew something of Christianity, I asked him how it was that this\nknowledge had borne no practical fruit. His reply was that when in\nChristian colleges attendance at a religious class is compulsory, it\nmakes the heathen boys hate Christianity.\n\nVery few Parsees have become Christians. I asked another Parsee the\ncause of this. He said that their religion was so pure that they did\nnot need to seek a better, and that they only looked upon light as a\nsymbol of God. But when the electric light was turned on in the\nrailway carriage where we were sitting, another old Parsee, looking up\nat it, put his hands together and touched his forehead, after the\nmanner of a Hindu saluting an idol.\n\nThe real secret of their want of interest in Christianity probably\nlies in the fact that they are the successful business people of\nIndia, and their minds being much engrossed in worldly affairs there\nis little room left for religious thought. Some of the richest people\nin India are to be found amongst them. You seldom see a poor-looking\nParsee, partly perhaps because they have the reputation of being very\ncharitable towards their own people, and so they will not suffer one\nof their number to feel the pinch of real poverty. They are also\nlavish in their gifts for public purposes, although their act would\nhave more grace if the name of the donor was less prominent.\n\nOne day two Persian ladies came to see the village church, with an\nEnglish lady as their companion. The latter said that one of the\nPersians was a big personage, and did not wish her name to be known.\nThey had noticed the boys playing about as they were passing by, and,\nattracted by their faces, came in. On entering the church, the chief\nPersian lady seeing the embroidered picture of the Crucifixion,\ngenuflected, and sending a little boy of hers to put some money on the\naltar, she told him to kiss it and return. On leaving, she asked that\ntwo candles should be burnt for her on the altar the next Sunday.\n\nThe effect that the church has upon visitors has been described\nalready, and how the din of controversy dies down within its walls. In\ndiscussing theology with people of an entirely different religion to\none's own, it is almost inevitable that the conversation should\ngradually become controversial; and when it reaches that stage, all\npower for good in the intercourse is at an end. The proximity of the\nchurch can then be turned to good account. \"Would you like to see the\nchurch?\" is a question which nearly always draws out a ready assent,\nand the pending risk is averted.\n\nMany of Mr Hole's beautiful pictures illustrating the Life of our Lord\nare framed and hanging round the walls of the church, something after\nthe fashion of the Stations of the Cross. In a church which Hindus\noften frequent the Stations are not suitable, not merely because they\nonly represent the suffering side of our Lord's life, but because they\nleave Him dead and buried. A selection from Mr Hole's pictures, from\nthe Annunciation to the Ascension, enables us to take a Hindu round\nthe church and tell him our Lord's life delightfully in picture story.\nThe best testimonial to the fidelity and correctness of detail in\nthese pictures is that they commend themselves entirely to the Eastern\nmind. Even quite young Indian boys will turn away from large and gay\ncartoons supposed to illustrate correctly some Scripture subject, and\nwill eagerly study its smaller and more sober counterpart, often\npointing out with much discrimination wherein the large cartoon errs,\nand the particular points in which the smaller painting excels.\n\nA young Hindu, who began by being very controversial, after visiting\nthe church and expressing extreme pleasure at what he saw there,\nfinished up by saying as he went away: \"You Christians believe in your\nreligion. We Hindus don't believe in ours, and so we are all divided\nup.\"\n\nI asked one of our visitors what work he was doing. He said that as he\nhad not been able to qualify for Government service, he was not doing\nany work. It transpired that he possessed some land, and I asked why\nhe did not occupy himself usefully by cultivating it. He replied that\nhe had quarrelled with all his relations, and so there was no one to\nhelp him in its cultivation. As he was married, I said that in the\nnorth of England a farmer and his wife were quite capable of\ncultivating a small plot like his, without relations at their elbow.\nHe said that in India this would be impossible.\n\nAs it appeared that he had not been on good terms with his relations\nfor some years, I said that Hindus were habitually quarrelling and\nrefusing to forgive, but that a true religion would teach the sin of\nremaining for long periods at enmity with others. He answered that\nthis was one of the weak spots in their religion; that India needed\nreform in its methods of trade and other matters; that when it had\nbeen reformed its religion would improve.\n\nI replied that that was beginning at the wrong end, and that before an\neffectual reform of morals could take place there must be the\nfoundation of a true religion.\n\n\"Then is Hinduism not the true religion?\" he asked.\n\nOn my replying in the negative, he said: \"If I had time I would prove\nto you that it is, only unfortunately my brother will be home\npresently and I must go to meet him.\" And he went away.\n\nIndians, nowadays, are rather inclined to back out when it comes to\nsolid argument, but they are often clever in rapid repartee and in\nscoring a point quickly. A Hindu boy having been rude and troublesome,\nI said that he must not come again for pictures for three months, and\nthat if he came I should not give him any. \"Not if I come on the\nKing's Coronation Day?\" (which was close at hand) he asked promptly.\nAnd I was obliged to smile and say that if he came on that day it\nwould be all right.\n\nIndians are beginning to understand something of what is meant by the\ndignity of labour, although they are slow in making personal\napplication of the lesson. I was pointing out to a middle-aged visitor\nthe Boys' Home in the distance, on the other side of the compound.\nLooking across, he caught sight of one of the Sisters carrying a pail\nof water for the garden. \"Why, the Sister is working!\" he said with\neager astonishment and approval. \"That is what we need to learn to do\nin India, instead of sitting about talking or sleeping.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nGAMES IN INDIA\n\n     Cricket and football. Use of English cricket terms. Each\n     game has its season. Marbles. The Indian method.\n     Spinning-tops. Splitting your opponent's top. Kite-flying.\n     Battles in the air. Final result. _Itte-dhandu_; how played.\n     The Indian \"Tom Tiddler's ground.\"\n\n\nIndian children are fond of games, and many Indians, until quite\nadvanced in life, continue to play games of a nature which are usually\nassociated with childhood. Cricket has become widely popular in all\nthe larger schools and colleges, and football also, but to a less\ndegree. Christian boys of all ages play these two games everywhere\nwith great zest, and the Hindu boys in their neighbourhood, stimulated\nby the sight, follow their example to some extent. But they are\nhindered by the scarcity of the necessary apparatus, which costs more\nthan most Indian boys can possibly afford. If schools and colleges in\nEngland would systematically send their cast-off gear for games,\ncarriage paid, to foreign missions they would do a good work in\nhelping to keep young lives in wholesome and happy occupation. Even an\nold tennis ball is received as a real treasure by an Indian boy, and\nany number of balls would be gratefully welcomed by every mission.\n\nIn playing cricket it is almost a matter of necessity that the English\nexpressions connected with the game should be used, even by those who\nknow no other English. Out in a village, where English is never\nspoken, it sounds curious suddenly to hear from the cricket field,\n\"How's that?\" pronounced sharply and clearly; and then the prompt and\nequally incisive reply, \"Not out.\" Wonderful to say, the decisions of\nthe umpires are accepted with tolerable readiness, except when they\nare flagrantly contrary to fact, as they sometimes are. A few of the\npolitically disaffected students have tried to boycott the game as a\nforeign importation, but they have not met with much success.\n\nThere is a proper season for all the purely Indian games, and to play\nany of them out of season is almost as great an enormity as to shoot a\npartridge in England before the 1st of September. If you ask an Indian\nboy if he has been playing a certain game, and if it happens not to be\nin season, he will look at you with an air of pained surprise, and\nbriefly saying \"No,\" he will change the subject.\n\nIndians of almost any age play marbles, and there are many divers ways\nof doing this, the rules of which are clearly established by an\nunwritten tradition and are strictly adhered to. If a disputed point\narises when a company of boys are playing, an appeal to a senior\nbystander is always conclusive. Games between experts are watched with\ninterest by quite a number of lookers-on, of every age. The Indian\nmethod of shooting a marble is to use the middle finger of the right\nhand as a sort of catapult. The marble is held with the left hand\nagainst this finger, and bending it back, it is suddenly let go. The\neffect of this is to volley the marble with great force and accuracy.\nThe English boy's method is tame by comparison. The prevailing\ngambling instinct finds scope in this game, because the marbles are\ngenerally kept by the winners, and experts amass great stores. Some\nschoolboys, with a money-lender's disposition, make a fortune by\nselling marbles cheap to small and inexperienced boys and then\npromptly winning them back again.\n\nSpinning tops is an amusement of which the Indian boy never grows\nweary, and he only leaves off regretfully because its season comes to\nan end. If he has nothing else to do he will be happy spinning his\ntop, on and off, from morning until nightfall, and naturally grows\nskilful in the art, although, if he has no companion, it does not\nadmit of much variety. His chief exploit is to scoop up the top while\nit is still spinning, on to the palm or back of his hand, or on to his\narm. But there are exciting contests, when one boy endeavours to spin\nhis top with all his force on to the revolving top of an opponent,\nbecause if successfully accomplished the defeated top splits. A\nscarred veteran sometimes becomes quite an honoured hero from the\nnumber of its victims.\n\nSome of the tops are of the roughest description, made by the village\ncarpenter. More finished ones can be bought in the native bazaar for a\nfarthing. But often a hopelessly disreputable-looking top, with an old\nnail for its spike, has a better record for deeds done than a more\nshowy one bought in a shop. Those that are spun with the view of\nsplitting their opponent often have, instead of a spike, a flattened\nbit of iron like a little chisel, which the boys sharpen on a stone,\nand with these they do great execution. Sometimes somebody's foot is\nseriously wounded in case of a miss-fire. Now and then, for a change,\na boy will play with a whip-top.\n\nKite-flying amongst Indians is an exciting sport, quite different to\nthe tame amusement of merely seeing how high a kite will go. The\nIndian kites are nearly always quite small, made of thin coloured\npaper pasted on to a frame of very slender wooden splints. The better\nkites are made of paper of several different colours tastefully\ncombined, and often decorated with gold. Strong thread is used, of\nwhich the enthusiastic flyer has a large store on a wooden roller,\nwhich he intrusts to some small confederate who pays it out or takes\nit in as required, and is proud to be allowed to have this share in\nthe sport.\n\nBut the real purpose of Indian kite-flying is to do battle with\nsomebody else's kite up in the air. You have to try and so manoeuvre\nyour kite that its thread crosses that of your opponent, who may be\nstationed quite a long way off and out of sight. He on his part will\ntry and avoid you and get the upper hand himself. In the hands of\nexpert flyers the contest is most exciting. Crowds will gather and\nwatch the result with intense interest. The kites dodge, and rush\nupwards, and dive downwards, as if they were alive, and the fight\noften goes on for a long time. The thread is doctored with glass which\nhas been pounded into fine dust and mixed with gum. This gives the\nthread great cutting capacity, so that if it fairly crosses that of\nits opponent, by a dexterous sawing movement the thread is cut, and\nthe liberated kite sails away on its own account.\n\nThen follows intense excitement amongst the crowds of onlookers far\nand near. The kite, without the support of its line, soon begins to\nflutter downwards. It is an established tradition that it becomes the\nproperty of the person into whose hands it falls. The original owner\nis rarely able to get near enough to secure it. Its zigzag course\nmakes it problematical where it will fall. Generally those who think\nthey are going to get it are disappointed by a final flutter, which\ntakes it out of their reach into another pair of outstretched hands.\nNot unfrequently nobody gets it, because it is torn to shreds amongst\nthe many hands held up to grasp it.\n\nSome schoolboys spend on kites, during their season, every farthing\nthat comes to them; and kites can be bought from a farthing upwards.\nThey have not a long life, even at the best of times. Frequently they\nget torn by the wind on their first journey heavenwards, and a torn\nkite can rarely be repaired to much purpose. Flying competitions on a\nlarge scale, with substantial prizes for the winners, are organised,\nand attract crowds of spectators. The competitors are for the most\npart men, some being of mature age. It is a wholesome and entirely\nharmless form of amusement, except for the betting which takes place\nat the big contests.\n\nThere is a fine game called _itte-dhandu_, after the names of the two\npieces of wood with which it is played. It is a little like tip-cat.\nThe _itte_ is a rounded bit of wood 2-1/2 inches long and perhaps an\ninch in diameter. Sometimes the ends are made to taper, but experts\nsay that this is not correct. The _dhandu_ is a stick of similar\ndiameter and about 15 inches long. It is a most exciting game, with an\nelaborate code of unwritten rules. It can be played by any number of\npersons from two onwards. The whole field is kept in constant\noccupation, movement, and excitement. I have in vain tried to get some\none to commit the rules to paper. While the game is in season there is\nno anxiety about how to provide for the wholesome amusement of\nschoolboys, because they play it in every vacant interval, from early\nmorning till they go tired and happy to bed. But directly the proper\nseason has ended, the game is dropped till the next year. One of its\nmany advantages is that almost any jungle will provide wood from which\nthe _itte_ and the _dhandu_ are easily shaped with a pocket knife.\n\nA game, not unlike \"Tom Tiddler's ground,\" is very popular, chiefly on\nmoonlight nights, amongst men and boys. It is often played in the\nstreets of cities when traffic has ceased. The ground is divided into\nsquares, either by scraping boundaries in the dust, which lies thick\nin the streets of a native city; or else at night by pouring water\nalong the lines, which makes a very conspicuous mark on the dusty\nsurface in the vivid moonlight of the East. This childish game is\nplayed with great delight by people whom you might think were much too\nold for such amusement, and it nearly always forms part of the\nprogramme of any village festival.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nINDIAN WRESTLERS\n\n     Wrestling. Village gymnasiums. Wrestling contests. The\n     prizes. Rustic festivals. Modern novelties. Mineral waters.\n     Ice cream. Incandescent lights. The music. Absence of\n     merriment. The dull crowd. Return of the victor. National\n     characteristics apparent when playing games.\n\n\nWrestling is the chief indigenous athletic exercise of India. Nearly\nevery village has its band of wrestlers and its gymnasium. The latter\nis often a substantial house as village houses go, much decorated with\nwall paintings inside and out. Besides the wrestling-pit, with its\nthick layer of soft earth, it often contains Indian clubs, large\nstones with which the young men exercise their muscles after the\nmanner of dumb-bells, the post round which they twist and twirl to\ndevelop their arms and legs, and the drums which they beat in the\ntemple and elsewhere on festivals.\n\nEvery village of importance has its annual wrestling day, to which\npeople come from many miles round. Prizes are given from a fund\nsubscribed by the villagers. It is a point of honour that no one\ncompetes in his own village, so that all the prizes may go to\noutsiders. The wrestling is conducted with much decorum, in accordance\nwith exact and well-recognised rules. The decision of the referee\nappears to be nearly always accepted without dispute; or if ever there\nis a difference of opinion, the arbitration of one or two of the\nelders amongst the villagers is generally sufficient. If arbitration\nfails, a free fight is the only way of settling the matter; but such\nincidents are rare.\n\nThe prize is generally a turban, and however many turbans a man\nalready possesses he likes to add to their number. Sometimes there is\na good deal of very audible grumbling if the quality of the turban is\nthought to be defective. Now and then important contests between\nchampions in the world of wrestlers are held in cities like Poona, and\nthere is a charge for admission, and the prizes are of value, gold and\nsilver rings and sums of money. Wrestlers train carefully when they\nare preparing for a contest, according to their own ideas of training,\nand they drink a great deal of milk. The best side of Indian village\nlife is to be found in this sport, and as it is one of the few things\nwhich is not tainted by idolatry, I could always accept with pleasure\nan invitation to the gymnasium, or to be present on the annual sports\nday.\n\n[Illustration: THE YERANDAWANA VILLAGE WRESTLERS OPPOSITE THEIR\nGYMNASIUM.]\n\nIn our village little dinner-parties take place in the houses (or,\nrather, outside the houses) of the principal farmers, the evening\nbefore the annual wrestling competition. Feasts are nearly always\nheld in the open air, partly because most of the houses are so small\nthat there is not room inside to seat the guests; and also because\nlow-caste people, who would not be allowed to come indoors, can be fed\nin the open so long as they sit a little apart from the rest.\n\nModern novelties are creeping into rustic festivals. Mineral waters of\nnative manufacture, and often astonishingly brilliant in colour, have\nbecome a recognised luxury at such times; especially since it has\nbecome an understood thing that no breach of caste is involved if you\ndrink your soda-water direct from the bottle. Enclosed in its glass\ncase the liquid could not have been contaminated by any external\ntouch, and there is no need to go so far back in its history as to ask\nwho made the soda-water. The ice-cream man, calling out his wares in\nwhat is meant to be English, does a large trade in spite of the\nmicroscopic nature of his helpings. Native torches are being\nsupplanted by the powerful incandescent lights of recent times, and\none or two of these are hired for the occasion, and are brought out\nfrom Poona on the heads of coolies, and burn all night somewhere in\nthe centre of the village. It is an essential element of all Indian\nfestal enjoyments that they should begin in the evening and last all\nnight. Extremes meet, and this is a peculiarity which the Indian\nsocial world seems to share, at any rate to a large extent, with the\nfashionable world in England. Of course a band is also a necessary\nfeature.\n\nI went down into the village one morning, after one of their festal\nnights, and found most of the villagers seated under the shade of a\nlarge tree listening to the band which, usually so indefatigable, was\nstrumming rather feebly after its all-night exertions. It was\naccompanying a poor, faded-looking woman, who was singing in a\npeculiar hoarse voice, with a slight attempt at action, and a feeble\nsort of skip at the end of each stanza. I did not understand what she\nwas singing, but I soon withdrew, because the songs sung at such times\nare said to be nearly always bristling with improprieties.\n\nBut Indians take most of their pleasures sadly, and the curious\nfeature of the whole scene was the complete absence of anything\ncorresponding to fun or merriment. Both the singer and the members of\nthe band were evidently meaning to be funny, but the audience might\nhave been listening to a dull sermon in church, so far as their grave\nand uninterested faces were concerned. A visitor at any time almost\nduring the festivities would have found them in the same condition.\nEven when feasting, beyond a certain enjoyment in the process, there\nis no indication of merriment in the silent meal.\n\nThe wrestling competitions began in the late afternoon, when the power\nof the sun had a little moderated, and lasted until dusk. They were\nheld in a field just outside the village, on newly ploughed land,\nwhich affords a soft bed for the combatants when they fall. Many\nlarge and beautiful mango-trees gave welcome shade to the two or three\nthousand spectators, who formed an immense and deep ring round the\narena. Some of the young men of the place, armed with sticks,\ndisplayed much energy in keeping the ground clear. The elders of the\nvillage arranged the order of proceedings, and who was to compete with\nwho. But in spite of the great assembly taking evident interest in\nwhat was going on, and especially in the spirited contests between\nboy-wrestlers, it was a distinctly dull crowd, and there was little\nanimation in the faces of those who were watching the events closely.\nThe only group in which something approaching to cheerfulness was\nvisible was in the knot of customers gathered round the sellers of\nfruit and drinks. On the road home the crowd sometimes shows a measure\nof joviality, and it is always customary to usher victorious wrestlers\ninto their own village with shouts and loud proclamation of what has\nbeen accomplished. After a victory in one of the big city contests the\nhero may even be escorted home with lights and music.\n\nIt is in games, perhaps, more than in anything else, that national\ncharacteristics make themselves apparent. This is specially noticeable\nin India when anyone gets injured in sports or cricket, or if he has\nrun an exhausting race. The Englishman hates to be fussed over, says\nthat his injury is nothing, and that he can walk home quite easily,\nwhen perhaps his leg is broken; and he feels dreadfully ashamed of\nhimself if he collapses at the finish of a race. The Indian, on the\ncontrary, makes extraordinary demonstrations over a slight injury; he\nflings himself on the ground, and is apparently at the point of death.\nHis friends rush for water, and chafe his hands and legs, and they\nthink the Englishman unfeeling if he ventures to say that he thinks\nthe sufferer will soon be better. After these performances have gone\non for a sufficient time, the injured man quietly gets up and resumes\nthe game.\n\nAlmost invariably, at the end of any race, the winner thinks it\nnecessary to put on the appearance of great exhaustion as long as\nanyone is looking at him. But when interest is diverted by\npreparations for the next race, the fit of exhaustion is easily\nconcluded, and the sufferer joins the crowd as if nothing had\nhappened.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nBOOKS IN INDIA\n\n     India in fiction. Vernacular prayer books. Indian letters.\n     Indian advertisements. Mistaken method of education. Slang\n     expressions. Swearing. Indians possess few books. Want of\n     respect for books. Cheapness of Christian books. Indian\n     printing and binding.\n\n\nThere are a few writers of fiction who depict Indian native life and\ntalk faithfully. But many readers get an entirely false idea of India\nand its people from certain popular novels, which are supposed to\npaint a true picture, but in which the description even of cities, and\nvillages, and scenery are often as unlike the reality as the\ncircumstances and conversations. Indian people talk much in the same\nway as ordinary folk in other parts of the world, except that unseemly\nallusions are freely admitted into general conversation in a way which\nwould not be tolerated in a Christian country. The absurd, high-flown\nconversational rhapsodies in the average Anglo-Indian novel are purely\nimaginary. \"Kim's\" talk fairly represents the ordinary talk of the\nIndian, although he was not one himself.\n\nA missionary, newly arrived in the country, asked whether the Prayer\nBook, translated into the vernacular, suited the Indian people, or\nwhether its sober language failed to satisfy the Easterns' desire for\nrhapsody. But the high flights such as he had in mind are only to be\nfound in novels. People often speak of the Prayer Book as if it was a\nmodern compilation of purely Western origin, and they seem to forget\nthat it is teeming with ancient Eastern thought. It is an instance of\nits Catholicity that it supplies the needs of all nations. When\ncarefully translated, many of the people of the East make more use of\nit than some good Christians do in England. Even rustic Indians use it\nintelligently and with great appreciation, and it forms their chief\nmanual of private devotion. Indian children soon learn to follow the\nvarious services which it contains with happiness and profit. Many of\nthem have made themselves quite familiar with the whole book from\noften studying it.\n\nInnumerable examples have been published of the astonishing letters\naddressed by Indians to Government officials and others. They are\nastonishing, both in the nature of the requests made and the English\nin which their wants are expressed. Some people suppose that the\nexamples published cannot be really authentic, or are greatly\nexaggerated. Those who are familiar with some of the originals know\nthat exaggeration is impossible, because no feigned composition could\nbeat the reality. Here is a letter, copied word for word, which a\nHindu wrote and brought to me, asking me to correct it:--\"To\nColonel,----. Sir, my eldest son has been suffering since last year\nfrom Morbid heat of skin that is bone fever for which he had Quinine\nArsenic and chiretta, but without effect of recovery, he is gradually\ngetting day by day weaker, and we have had 'chit chat' at your\nquarters for granting to my son an appointment as clerk in your\noffice, please try your best and grant him one, for which act of\nkindness I shall ever pray for your long life and prosperity. Most\nprobably I shall see you during the Christmas Holidays. An early reply\nwill be greatly oblige, I remain Sir yours faithful and most\nrespectful servant Bulwant.\"\n\nIndian tradesmen in their advertisements often promise to pray for\nthose who become their customers. Here is a quotation from an English\nleaflet, put out by a bookbinder in our neighbourhood:--\"Rates and\ncharges for different sorts of binding and gold work will be settled\nby the undersigned and the party and the undersigned will ever pray\nfor him, who will call him up by a Post Card.\" The comicalities to be\nfound in shop signboards in the English language are endless.\n\nBut though comical examples of the misapplication of language have\nbeen published to weariness, and the bombastic compositions of\neducated Indian students held up to ridicule, the fault does not lie\nwith the pupil but with ourselves, who are ultimately responsible for\nthe subjects which are set him to learn. So long as he is made to read\nbooks in antiquated English, he will naturally suppose that the\nflowery and bombastic language of Addison in the _Spectator_, or of\nDr. Johnson, is the style which he ought to imitate when he writes a\nletter. Nor is it possible for him to discriminate, in what is to him\na foreign language, between what is antiquated and out of date, and\nwhat is mere modern slang, and so he sometimes combines the two styles\nin his compositions with startling effect.\n\nIt would seem to be more rational to give him the best modern authors\nto study while he is still a learner, and to leave it to him to dive\ninto the recesses of English literature, if he is so inclined, after\nhe has ceased to be a pupil. Students bring their books of selections\nfrom English authors to the missionary, and ask him to clear up their\ndifficulties. But a long and involved paragraph, with several obsolete\nwords and obscure satire, is a tangle which it is almost hopeless to\nunravel satisfactorily, when you are dealing with a language so unlike\nin construction and modes of expression to that of the learner. Nor\nare some of the allusions in the selected passages particularly\nedifying to the Hindu mind, ready to scent evil even where it does not\nexist. And they tempt him to buy cheap reprints of the literature of\nthe past, in the hope that he will find matter congenial to a mind\neasily attracted to that which is pernicious.\n\nIndian students are sometimes asked in their examinations to explain\nout-of-the-way or obsolete expressions which are little better than\nslang. As a result of this, students when speaking English will\nintroduce some of these expressions into their talk, thinking that by\nso doing they show their familiarity with the language. When they try\nto embellish serious sentences in this way the result is sometimes\nremarkable. They will also repeat words, never heard in polite\nsociety, under the idea that they are in common use. Now and then\nstudents swear freely, supposing that all Englishmen do so. When\ntaking shelter from the midday sun at a roadside police station--only\na little hut a few feet square--I listened to the Mohammedan policeman\nas he talked to a beggar, who was exhibiting the contents of his\nbundle in order to show that he had not got any stolen goods. The\npoliceman was talking in Marathi, but presently I noticed that at\nintervals a short word occurred, which sounded like what is popularly\nregarded as being essentially the Englishman's oath. I soon discovered\nthat such was really the case, and that the policeman was adorning his\ntalk with the word which he had heard Englishmen use when they wanted\nto give force to their orders. He was, of course, quite ignorant of\nits meaning, but it was unfortunate that the only English word which\nhe knew, and which he evidently used constantly, should be of such a\nnature.\n\nFew Indians possess any number of books, either in their own language\nor in English. The lesson books they may have used at school or\ncollege gradually get dispersed. Even in the houses of educated people\nlittle provision in the shape of bookcases is to be found. A recess in\nthe wall may contain a shelf or two on which a few books are placed in\ndisorderly array, but they are seldom read. Even those who read books\ntake little pleasure in their outward appearance, and the binding is\nto them nothing more than a necessary protection to the book inside\nit. Some wealthy Indian, following to some extent Western fashions in\nhis house, may have in his reception-room the _Encyclopaedia\nBritannica_, and a library edition of Dickens, elaborately bound. But\nthey are rarely opened and only form part of the decorative furniture\nof the room, and stand a poor chance of notice in competition with the\nbig gramophone which, nowadays, is to be found in many well-to-do\nEastern households.\n\nIndians have yet to learn to treat books with the respect which is\ninstinctive amongst people of refinement in most European countries.\nTo see a book rudely treated, or knocked about, is almost as\ndistressing to many people as if it was an object sensitive to pain.\nBut a book in the hands of even a cultivated Indian is almost sure to\nsuffer. If it is a new book, he will open it vigorously, and bend it\nback as far as it will go, in order to make it open properly. Its\nbroken back is the permanent memento of the treatment it has\nreceived. Even Christian Indians are slow to learn the outward respect\ndue to their religious books. Their prayer books and hymn books, more\noften than not, soon go to pieces for want of reasonable care,\nalthough women are much more careful than men. Want of appreciation of\nthe value of a book may partly arise from the fact that nearly all the\nbooks which Christians use have been sold to them under cost price,\nthrough the help of societies. Bible societies issue copies of the\nScriptures at extraordinarily cheap rates, so that they may come\nwithin the reach of everybody, however poor. Vernacular prayer books\nare generally sold at a cost much below that of their production. This\nwas inevitable in early days when Christians were few in number, and\noften poor. But it has left the impression that a book is a thing of\nlittle value, easily replaced.\n\nA Brahmin seeing a book on India on my table which he thought he would\nlike to have, asked the price. On hearing that it was seven or eight\nshillings, he lifted up his hands in dismay and said, \"The price is\nprohibitive. Write and tell Messrs Murray & Co.\"\n\nAt one time it was almost impossible to get good printing done in\nIndia, although many people professed to be printers. Of late years\nthere has been a great change in this respect, and some of the presses\nproduce beautiful vernacular work, and soon their English printing\nwill leave little to be desired. Bookbinding also shows sufficient\npromise to indicate that first-rate results would be forthcoming if\nthere was more demand for it. Some of the more enterprising newspaper\nproprietors are issuing festal numbers of their publication in\nimitation of our Christmas numbers, and though they are in substance\nrather a sad parody of even our own publications in which the true\nmeaning of Christmas often has so little place, the manner of their\nproduction is sufficiently artistic to show that India will be quite\ncapable of producing her own real Christmas number when the happy day\ndawns when she is found demanding it.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nINDIAN PAGEANTS\n\n     Processions. Marriage ceremonies. People take little notice.\n     Funeral processions. Military display. Eagerness to see the\n     King. Military ardour of Christian boys. Hindu procession\n     diverted into the Church. Embarrassing result. Problems of\n     worship. Religious dancing. Father Benson's \"War-Songs.\"\n\n\nIt is commonly imagined that we in India live in a perpetual state of\npageant, and that the Indian is constantly occupied with brilliant\ndisplay and stately processions, and that he cannot be happy without\nthem. In reality, most Indian processions are of a tawdry character,\nsomewhat of the nature of, but not nearly so imposing, as that of an\naverage circus in England. Nor as a rule do these processions excite\nmuch interest, except amongst those who are actually taking part in\nthem, and even their interest is often languid.\n\nThe chief processions are in connection with marriages, and rich men\nspend a great deal of money on that part of the ceremonial. Bands, and\nhorses, and carriages, and bands of artificial flowers borne on the\nheads of women, and surrounding the bridegroom as he rides on\nhorseback, large fans of peacocks' feathers waving round him to keep off\nevil influences and imaginary flies, torches at night, now supplanted by\nmodern incandescent lamps carried on men's heads, displays of fireworks,\nand the exploding of harmless bombs--processions such as these abound in\nIndian towns, and in a simpler form in villages, at seasons which have\nbeen declared propitious for weddings. Some of these cavalcades are\nattended by a multitude of people whose chief concern in the matter\nprobably centres in the feast which is to follow.\n\nBut even the most magnificent procession hardly excites the faintest\ncuriosity amongst the people of the streets along which it passes. The\nshopkeeper does not rise from the pillows on the floor of his little\nshop on which he is dozing; the brass-worker or silversmith will\nscarcely lift up his eyes from his work; the women will hardly come\neven to their house-door to look; the little boys busy playing marbles\ndown some side street are too much absorbed in their game to run and\nsee the show. This is a curious contrast to the rapidity with which a\ncrowd will gather on the smallest provocation in a European city. Even\na hearse, standing at a house-door in England, will draw a very\nrespectable crowd, merely in order to see the door open and the coffin\nbrought out. A funeral procession in India is of much greater possible\ninterest, because most Hindus are carried to the place of burning, or\nburial, as the case may be, on a flat bamboo litter with the face\nvisible, so that you have the opportunity of recognising, or not, the\nface of a friend in the passing corpse. Yet few use the opportunity,\nand the sight does not appear to excite the slightest curiosity.\nNobody bestows any tokens of respect on the funeral procession, and\nscarcely anybody gives it even a passing glance. This does not\napparently arise from superstitious shrinking from the sight of a\ncorpse.\n\nMilitary display does not impress the ordinary Indian. When a governor\ndrives in state to hold a levee he is attended by a brilliant retinue,\nand the Indian soldiers who form the chief part of his bodyguard are\npicked men, looking magnificent in their superb uniform. This imposing\ndisplay is meant presumably to impress the native mind with the\ndignity and authority of the representative of the ruling monarch. But\nin reality it does not excite admiration, or interest, or any other\nsentiment. The glittering cavalcade, which would bring out half London\nto see it if only they had the opportunity, passes on its way, and the\nchance passers-by hardly pause to look at it. This is not out of\ndisrespect to the powers that be, but merely because they see nothing\nto interest or admire. The small body of the disaffected, of course,\nlook upon military display as part of the arrogance of the conqueror\ntowards his subjects. The multitudes who thronged the streets of the\ngreat cities which the King visited, came together because they\nwanted to see the King himself, and they would have been just as\npleased, and perhaps even more so, if he had ridden through the\nstreets in solitary majesty without any retinue. Some natives\ncomplained that amongst the many English officers in gorgeous uniform\nit was not always possible to distinguish for certain which was the\nKing.\n\nNot unfrequently large bodies of troops come past the Mission compound\nin Yerandawana village on their way to the hilly country beyond, which\nprovides an ideal area for military tactics. The boys of the Mission,\nthrough education and drill, and contact with Englishmen, are filled\nwith military ardour, and are worked up to a pitch of intense\nexcitement by the sight of guns, and mules, and baggage-waggons, and\nmarching soldiers, and they spend every spare minute by the roadside.\nBut to the Hindu villagers it means nothing at all. Perhaps one or two\nof the village boys who are attending the day-school will catch a\nspark of enthusiasm from the Christian boys, and will join them by the\nroadside; but the majority of the villagers will hardly turn their\nheads, much less walk ten yards, to see the sight. Religious\nprocessions to some sacred place or shrine are sometimes impressive\nfrom the enormous number of pilgrims taking part in them. One day a\nlarge procession of Hindus from a neighbouring village, on their way\nto the temple at Yerandawana, passed alongside the Mission compound.\nThey had with them a god, which they were carrying in a palanquin.\nOne or two boys, seeing me standing at the church door, called out to\nknow whether I had any pictures to give away. I invited them instead\nto come and see the church, and several boys left following the\npalanquin and came towards me. The crowd seeing this, and moved with\ncuriosity, did the same, and in a few minutes the greater part of the\nprocession was diverted into the church. The result of this was the\nunusual sight of the church crammed to the doors with eager Hindus in\nholiday attire, and it gave an idea of what will be its aspect on some\ngreat festival, after the conversion of the village has become an\naccomplished fact.\n\nThe situation, however, soon became embarrassing. The Hindus appeared\nrather pleased with their surroundings. Some of them had got with them\nthe heavy brass cymbals which they clash as a musical accompaniment in\ntheir religious processions. They began to sound their cymbals and to\ndance in the slow, sedate way, which they do in their temples on\nfestal occasions, or when having an outdoor procession. Meanwhile the\ndirectors of the ceremonies had grasped the situation, and setting\ndown the palanquin hurried into church, and expressing their\nindignation by words and blows, endeavoured to drive out the crowd.\nBut as the church has nineteen large double doors this was no easy\nmatter, because as fast as they were driven out at one door they came\nin at another. At length the church was cleared, and the much\ndisorganised procession went on its way. On its return, after an hour\nor so, a good many Hindus again visited the church, in order to get a\nbetter view of it than they had been able to secure amidst the crowd.\n\nThe sight of the people, solemnly dancing and clashing their cymbals\nin the church, set one thinking as to the difficulties and problems\nwhich the conversion of the villagers will give rise to. It is\npurgatory to an Indian to sit still for any length of time. Outdoor\npreachers have to adapt themselves to a congregation which is\ncontinually changing. Very few can keep their attention for ten\nminutes. An ordinary Evensong, with little variety of posture, is a\ndreary exercise for a Hindu, and if he comes he seldom sits it out to\nthe end. The Christian Indian gets accustomed to it and learns to\nappreciate it, but he rejoices in a procession, or in any ceremonial\nwhich involves motion. If the solemn dance and clashing of cymbals\nduring the Magnificat could be allowed, the rustic Indian would enjoy\nEvensong.\n\nFather Benson, in his \"War-Songs of the Prince of Peace,\" thus happily\ntranslates the fourth verse of Psalm 150--\"Praise Him with timbrels\ntost in timely dance.\" And that is what the Christian Indian would\ndelight to do.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nTHE INDIAN CHARACTER\n\n     Erroneous notions about India. The Indian nature shallow.\n     The Indian as a student. Unfinished projects. Untidiness.\n     Waste of time. Petty vanity. Quiet obstinacy. How to govern.\n     Training of the Indian boy. Punishment. Patience. Rulers of\n     the \"Lawrence\" school. Their success. The Declaration at\n     Delhi. Unexpected contradictions of character.\n\n\nSome of the perplexities of missionaries in India, and also probably\nof Civil servants in the Indian Government, arise from preconceived\nnotions about the country and people which are either only partly\ntrue, or are altogether erroneous. It takes years of growing\nexperiences before things gradually assume their proper proportions in\nthe mind.\n\nThe generally accepted idea that Indians have a depth of intellect\nwhich it is almost impossible to fathom, is one of the most fruitful\ncauses of mistakes in government, whether within the comparatively\nnarrow limits of a Mission area, or when dealing with affairs which\nconcern the whole country. An extensive and varied experience amongst\nHindus of almost every class and age has led to the conviction that\nthe great depth which could not be fathomed is really a shallow, and\nthat we should have realised that we touched bottom long ago, except\nthat we continued to try and probe for it in a region which does not\nexist.\n\nIf it is true that the Indian mind is shallow, and with limited\ncapabilities, it explains a great deal which otherwise seems\nperplexing. Nor will this conviction lead you to think less of the\nIndian. On the contrary, it makes you like him all the better, because\nyou can appreciate his many good qualities without being disappointed\nbecause they do not yield all the fruit which might be desired.\n\nMany instances might be given of the shallowness of the Indian's mind.\nIn his student days he will often slave at his books to an extent\nalmost unparalleled in any other student world. But when he has\nattained the goal and secured his diploma, which is the summit of his\nambition, the number of students who make any further use of the\nknowledge which they have acquired with so much toil is few indeed.\nOr, if he has secured a post which would in due course lead on to a\nposition of responsibility and corresponding prosperity, he will often\nthrow up his work and sacrifice all his prospects on account of some\ntrifling rebuke or imaginary slight.\n\nThe marks of unfinished projects to be seen all over India point to a\nwant of depth of purpose. Interest and zeal has abated before the work\nis complete, or it was entered upon thoughtlessly without having\ncounted the cost. It does not seem to cause the Indian any compunction\nthat an undertaking was begun but never finished. Nor is the partly\nbuilt house going to ruin because incomplete, or the well useless\nbecause it has not been sunk deep enough, an eyesore to him. Even his\ninveterate want of tidiness indicates a careless mind. Rubbish of all\nsorts lying around or within his house, even if it be of a most\nunsavoury nature, so that its presence forces itself upon attention,\ndoes not distress him.\n\nInveterate unpunctuality, and the general absence of a sense of\nresponsibility concerning the value of time, is another indication of\nshallowness of mind. Days and weeks are allowed to drift away with\nnothing done, even amongst those who are supposed to be men of\nbusiness. Petty vanity is also a mark of a shallow nature, and there\nare few heathen Indians who do not boast about attainments and\npossessions and exploits, and make unblushing statements which perhaps\nhave not a vestige of truth in them. The reality of Indian affection\nas far as it goes, but its want of depth, has been already touched\nupon.\n\nWhat ought to be firmness of character is apt to take the form of a\nvein of quiet obstinacy, which is latent in almost all Indians. With\nmany it is not generally aggressive in character, and shows itself in\nmatters of no great importance. It is necessary, for the sake of\npeace, to allow Indian servants to do certain things in their own\nway. You explain how you prefer to have a thing done and you give your\nreasons, and the butler or gardener will apparently agree, and they\nwill do it for a few days according to your wish; but as soon as they\nthink that you have forgotten, they will return to their own custom.\nAnd if you were to tell them twenty times, they would twenty times\ntake the same course.\n\nWith Indian children a conflict of opinion is to be avoided if\npossible, because, even with them, if the spirit of obstinacy is\naroused it may easily lead on to serious complications. An Indian lad,\nif he gets his back up, becomes from the most reasonable of beings the\nmost unreasonable. Arguments and warnings are wasted upon him, and you\ncan only leave him alone and deal with him when he has recovered.\n\nWhen shallowness of nature has been recognised as being that of the\naverage Indian, it simplifies your relations with him. You take him as\nhe is, and enjoy the many attractive qualities which flourish, up to a\ncertain point, in the shallow soil. It also makes it easier to govern\nhim, supposing you have responsibilities of that nature, if you\nunderstand that you must not depend too much on certain qualities\nwhich he only possesses in a limited degree. And this is equally true\nwhether your responsibility extends only to one or two individuals, or\nwhether it embraces a wide area and large populations.\n\nWith the Indian boy, for instance, firmness and kindness must be\njudiciously blended. It is no good arguing with him in times of\ndifficulty, or you will stir up that latent spirit of obstinacy. Rules\nconcerning work or conduct must be clearly laid down, and deviations\ntaken notice of at once. Almost all Indians require the stimulus of\nsupervision to keep them up to their work. But many Indian boys are\nslow in learning the duties of their office, whatever it may be. They\nmust be given time, and the same thing may have to be often patiently\nexplained before it is digested. A word of commendation for good work\nor conduct may be dropped now and then, but not too often, or it will\nbe taken as an indication that a less amount of exertion will suffice.\n\nThe question of punishment should always be very carefully thought out\nbeforehand. But if threatened, and really earned, it is best given.\n\"Letting off\" is looked upon as a sign of weakness, and does not\nstimulate gratitude. Reasonable punishment, given good-temperedly, as\nthe proper due for debt incurred, never produces ill-feeling. But the\nIndian boy smarts under a sense of injustice, and his case ought\nalways to be carefully weighed, and what he has to say in his defence\npatiently listened to, and due deference should be shown to his\nspecial characteristics as an Eastern and not a European. Also, the\ninfinite variety of character to be found amongst Indian boys should\nbe taken into account. They must be dealt with, not as a flock, but\nas individuals.\n\nThe old Anglo-Indians of the \"Lawrence\" school, who were for the most\npart eminently Christian men, ruled India much on the same lines as if\nit was a large boys' school. And, when they were not hampered by undue\ninterference from headquarters, they were on the whole signally\nsuccessful, and were both beloved and feared. Unless the Indian nature\nchanges, and that can only be with the acceptance of Christianity, and\neven then only up to a certain point, any attempt to govern India on\ndifferent lines will be a dubious experiment. People whose nature is\nnot very strong are often not unwilling to accept the support of a\nkindly, but firm hand, to guide them. And as they rarely agree amongst\nthemselves concerning any course of action, they like to have things\nsettled for them, provided that the decision has wisdom and common\nsense on its side. This of course does not apply to the little knot of\ndiscontented political agitators. But they in no way represent the\nattitude of the people of India. The manner of the declaration of\nDelhi as the new capital, coming from the lips of a King of whose\ngoodwill they were already assured, was exactly the course of\nprocedure which most of all commends itself to the Indian mind.\n\nThere are, however, unexpected contradictions in the Indian character\nwhich baffle explanation. In spite of the almost universal moral\nlaxity in the conversation and personal life of a Hindu, any English\nlady could travel in perfect safety through the length and breadth of\nthe land, in city or in jungle, with no other attendants than her\nheathen Indian servants. There are also English parents who have found\nthat an Indian boy is, from a moral point of view, a safer guardian\nfor their young children than the average Indian woman who usually\nfulfils that office.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\nRELIGIOUS CONTROVERSY IN INDIA\n\n     Discussing religion with Indians. Their illustrations from\n     Nature. Want of applicability. Access to the King of kings.\n     Moral maxims for an ascetic. Misapplication of the word\n     \"religion.\" Observance of caste easy. Caste often broken in\n     private. Brahmin schoolboy asking for water. The mischievous\n     village boy.\n\n\nPeople with missionary aspirations have hesitated to volunteer for\nIndian work because they felt that they were not competent to grapple\nwith the acute intellects and subtle philosophy of Indian thinkers. It\nis commonly said that the acutest intellects in India are to be found\namongst the Brahmins of Poona City. A tolerably wide acquaintance\namongst them would lead one to say that the would-be missionary's\nfears are groundless. The real difficulty of controversy with Indians,\nso far as it may be expedient to embark in it at all, which is\ndoubtful, is that their arguments are often so discursive, their\nreasoning so childish, their illustrations so comically beside the\nmark, that it is scarcely possible to deal with them seriously.\n\nThey are particularly fond of illustrations drawn from Nature, and\nthey always regard the illustration as a conclusive answer to an\nargument. If you point out its want of applicability, they reply by at\nonce giving another illustration equally inapplicable. For instance,\nthe broad-minded modern Indian argues that all religions ultimately\nlead to God, and so that they are all equally good; and he gives as\nhis illustrative proof, that many rivers starting from a variety of\nsources eventually empty themselves into the sea. And he looks upon\nthis, not merely as an illustration, but as a clinching argument\nagainst which nothing can be said. But if you demur he will put the\ncase in the reverse order, and he will say that just as in Poona City\nthere are many tanks, but the water which supplies them all comes from\nthe great reservoir many miles away, so the various forms of religion\nfound in different countries came originally from the same source, and\nare therefore identical.\n\nA Hindu, defending the multiplicity of gods, said to me that of course\nthere was only one Supreme Being, but that he was too great to be\napproached by ordinary mortals, and that it was through the lesser\ndeities that man had access to him. To make this clear, he used the\nfollowing illustration. He said that if a man had a grievance he could\nnot go direct to the emperor and state his case, but he must begin by\napproaching the district collector, and ultimately his petition might\nreach the ears of the emperor. Happily this illustration gave the\nopportunity to say that in the Kingdom of Christ the poorest outcast,\nor the little child, can have direct and immediate access to the King\nof kings, whose ears are always open to the prayers of all His people.\n\nMoral maxims, such as they are, are often put into the same\nillustrative form. The following maxims are for the guidance of an\nascetic:--\n\n\"As the uncomplaining earth suffers injuries and affronts without any\nsign of resentment, so should the ascetic be unperturbed by any\nill-treatment and indignities he may be subjected to.\n\n\"Into the serene sky ascend the glad sounds of mirth, the fierce roar\nof battle, the beating of drums, and the clash of swords; but it\nretains none of them; the ascetic in the midst of the turmoil of life\nshould, in like manner, retain no impression of the events about him,\nbe they joyous or mournful.\n\n\"As the pure flame feeds indiscriminately on all sorts of fuel, the\nliving timber of the forest as well as the refuse of the dung-heap, so\nought the ascetic to accept willingly whatever food is given to him,\nnever reflecting on its value, nor whether it is stale or fresh.\"[2]\n\n[Footnote 2: Oman, _The Ascetics of India_, p. 158.]\n\nThe reader will be able to judge for himself how far the application\nof these illustrations is calculated to help a man in his religious\naspirations towards asceticism.\n\nThe fact that Hinduism is a religion which still has a great hold upon\nthe majority of the people of India may be partly explained by the\nshallowness of the Indian mind, which was referred to in the last\nchapter. If there had been greater depth of feeling, and keener\nperception of what the soul needs, the Hindu religion could never have\nheld its ground for so long. In spite of what many writers say about\nHinduism permeating every corner of domestic life, which is true in a\nsense, it does not mean that \"religion,\" as we understand the word,\npermeates the Indian household. In an article in the _Fortnightly_ of\nSeptember 1909, an educated Hindu, Mr. P. Vencatarao by name, writing\non the subject, \"Why I am not a Christian,\" after stating amongst\nother things that \"Hinduism has no fundamental dogmas,\" goes on to\nsay: \"Hinduism is much more a matter of social intercourse and\ndomestic life than of religion in the proper sense of the word.\" And\nthat is perfectly true.\n\nIt is a particularly easy religion to follow. The moral code is left\nundefined, and for the child depends upon the individual\ncharacteristics of the members of the household in which he grows up.\nThe only clear rule of life which the Hindu possesses is concerning\nthe observance of caste. That is to say, he must never take food or\ndrink which has been in any way contaminated by the touch of a caste\nlower than his own, and marriage may only be contracted within the\nlimits of his own caste. This rule he observes strictly, at any rate\nin public, from the earliest childhood onwards. But it conveys no\nmoral obligation. On the contrary, it tends to self-esteem and\nselfishness. Nor does it often cause any serious inconvenience. Or\nwhen it does, as for instance when travelling, the exigences of modern\nlife have brought about a number of small concessions to the\nstrictness of the rule concerning food and drink, so that the\ninconveniences have been mitigated or removed.\n\nNumbers of Hindus break their caste rules in private. More than once a\nhigh-caste visitor in the verandah, when he was alone, has asked me\nfor a drink of water; and there is no breach of caste so heinous as to\ntake water from the hand of a Christian. Now and then a Hindu lad will\ndisplay such an audacious courage in religious matters that it\npartakes rather of the nature of a boyish freak. Several big Brahmin\nlads, most of them being about sixteen or seventeen years old, had\nbeen visiting the Mission-house rather frequently and showed a good\ndeal of interest in Christianity. One of them, when sitting in the\nverandah, suddenly said to one of the Fathers: \"Could I have a drink\nof water?\" The Father replied that he would fetch him the water if he\nwished. The lad said: \"Bring it, please\"; and when the glass of water\nwas brought, he drunk it in the presence of his companions, and thus\ndeliberately and publicly breaking his caste. Unless he had been\nprepared to follow his action up in some definite way, it had no\nparticular use; but it was not for us to suggest scruples. It need\nscarcely be added that the visits from that particular group of lads\nceased, and it was long afterwards that, meeting the perpetrator of\nthis rash act in the road, I asked him what penalties he had had to\nundergo for what he had done. He denied that any results followed, but\nthe cessation of his visits gave the lie to this assertion.\n\n[Illustration: NIRARI BHOSLE.]\n\nOne of the village boys, who is endowed with a strong spirit of\nmischief, implored me to cut off his pigtail in order that he might\nhave the fun of seeing his mother's horror when he returned without\nit. But as he had no present intention of becoming a Christian, and it\nwould have made a row to no purpose, I refused to be an accomplice to\nhis mischief.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV\n\nWILD BEASTS IN INDIA\n\n     Tigers not often seen. Unlooked-for visits. Appearance of a\n     tiger. The dead panther. Government rewards. Annual return\n     of people killed. The tiger's den. Jackals; their cry.\n     Wolves. So-called \"wolf-boys.\" The Asiatic lion.\n\n\nWhen an English boy meets a missionary from India the only thing he\nwants to know is whether he has ever seen any tigers, and he is\ndisappointed if he gets an answer in the negative. The truth is, that\nthough wild beasts are still numerous they keep out of sight as much\nas possible. They soon realise that man is their enemy, and ordinarily\nthey give him as wide a berth as possible. When a grandee wants to\nshoot a tiger the difficulty is to find one, and an elaborate and\nlengthy campaign has to be organised, and an army of beaters called\ninto requisition in order to gradually bring the tigers within range.\nA forest officer of long experience, in that jungly region where the\nmouths of the Ganges open out into the Bay of Bengal, told me that\nthough tigers are known to frequent those parts, he had never seen\none.\n\nIn the hot weather in India English people sleep with doors and\nwindows wide open on the ground floor, or in the verandah, or even\nquite out of doors in their compound, without apprehension. Whereas in\nEngland, where there are no wild beasts, and thieves may be supposed\nto be under control, doors and windows are barred at night as if the\nhouse was about to sustain a siege.\n\nBut where there are no barriers of sea to prevent wild beasts from\nwandering wherever they please, unlooked-for visits are possible, even\nif improbable. Animals are sometimes obliged to abandon their usual\nhaunts in time of drought, when the normal sources of water have dried\nup, and they wander farther afield and come nearer to the haunts of\nmen than is their wont. Occasionally people are taken by surprise by\nthe advent of a panther, or even a tiger, in a district which they\nwere supposed to have deserted.\n\nOne of the Brothers and some of the Mission boys were climbing about\nthe hills in holiday time in the neighbourhood of Kala, a small\nvillage twenty miles or so from Poona, and in the heat of the day\nrested for a while in the shade of a thicket of small trees.\nContinuing their walk, they were startled on looking back to see a\ntiger jump out of the thicket in which they had been resting. Tigers\nrarely come into the open in the middle of the day unless they have\nbeen disturbed, and his sudden appearance was soon accounted for when\nan Englishman, accompanied by some native beaters, emerged. The\nEnglishman fired, and the tiger gave a terrible roar, as he generally\ndoes when wounded, and went back into the thicket. To dislodge him was\nnot an easy task, because a wounded tiger is, of course, a most\ndangerous beast. But eventually he broke cover again, and the\nEnglishman shot him dead; and the boys had the novel experience of\ninspecting at close quarters the body of a tiger who, not long before,\nhad been sheltering from the rays of the noonday sun in the same\nthicket as themselves.\n\nOne Sunday a bullock-cart drew up at the Mission-house, containing a\nlarge panther which had been shot, some eight or nine miles away, by a\nChristian who is one amongst the few privileged natives allowed to\ncarry a gun. He was bringing the body in order to exhibit it to the\nlocal authority, so that he might claim the Government reward. The\nskin also fetches a good price. The scent was getting rather strong,\nso after photographing the successful hunter and his son, standing\nover the beast in the approved fashion, we were glad to hurry him on.\nIts claws and teeth were in a very dirty and neglected condition,\nwhich may partly account for the great danger of even slight\nlacerations made by an animal of this kind.\n\nGovernment sometimes spends as much as L8000 a year on rewards for the\ndestruction of wild beasts and snakes in British India, and the annual\nreturn of the number of human beings reported as having been killed by\nthem shows that they are still sufficiently numerous to be a power in\nthe land. In a recent return this number reached the enormous total of\n24,576. But snakes were accountable for 21,827 out of these deaths. In\nthe same year, in the case of 48 people killed by tigers in the\nCentral Provinces, nearly all were the victims of one tigress which\nhad been infesting the jungle for some years. A confirmed man-eater\nbecomes very crafty, and difficult to kill.\n\nThere are many hills and dales where wild beasts found a congenial\nhome from which they have gradually retreated in the face of man and\ncivilisation. A den in the hillside, visible from the Mission bungalow\nat Yerandawana, is still spoken of as the \"Tiger's den,\" and a remote,\nbut probably true tradition lingers of an immense tiger who lived\nthere and who was eventually hunted down and slain by order of the\nthen ruler of the district. At the present day, in the immediate\nneighbourhood of Yerandawana the only wild creatures left are the fox\nand the jackal, with an occasional hyena. Jackals visit the outskirts\nof the village at night to see if there is anything eatable to be\npicked up, and they sometimes race across the Mission compound in the\nearly morning on their way home. It is to be feared that they visit\nthe Hindu cemetery, where the graves are often so shallow that the\nbodies are scarcely covered. The low-caste men, whose duty it is to\nbury stray corpses, do not expend more labour over their task than\nthey can help.\n\nJackals generally travel in companies at night, and they utter a most\npeculiar and rather attractive sharp cry in chorus, which they are\ncommonly said to repeat after exact intervals of time. But solitary\njackals are often to be met with. In the mountainous district somewhat\nfarther away wolves are still found, and they do a little damage\namongst the flocks of the villages. Some two or three hundred persons\nare carried off yearly by wolves in British India. The majority of\nthese victims are very young children who have strayed away a little\nfrom their parent's hut.\n\nThere is a widespread belief in rural India that wolves, instead of\ndevouring these babies, occasionally bring them up amongst their own\nyoung ones. It has been questioned whether these stories of\n\"wolf-boys\" have any foundation in fact. A schoolmaster, whose\nevidence was reliable, told me that he had actually seen a boy of this\ndescription brought to a mission in North India by people who had\nfound him in the jungle. They led him by a string, as if he had been a\nwild animal. The Mission accepted the charge, and the boy proved quiet\nand docile; but he never learnt to speak, nor, in fact, was it\npossible to teach him anything. He did not join the other boys in\ntheir games. When he went to church he sat there quietly, but without\nany apparent understanding of what it meant. He learnt, however, to\nsmoke, and made signs to indicate that a cigarette would be\nacceptable; and if one was given him he gave a kind of salute by way\nof acknowledgment, which shows that his mind was not quite a blank. He\nseemed to be about ten years old when the people brought him, but\nwhether he was still alive the schoolmaster did not know.\n\nEven in this case there was no direct evidence to connect the boy with\nwolves. But the natives have so many stories of the kind that it would\nseem likely that there is some truth in them. It is not inconceivable\nthat the young wolves might welcome the arrival of the strange child\nas a new playmate, and that if its life was spared at the first the\nwolf-boy would, through his human nature, gain a sort of ascendancy\nover his foster-parents, and they would eventually fear to hurt him,\nafter the fashion of Mowgli in Rudyard Kipling's _Jungle Book_.\n\nThe Asiatic lion is sometimes spoken of slightingly, as if it was a\nfeeble creature and almost extinct. A visit to Kathiawar, in Guzerat,\nwould dispel the idea. In one forest alone, only a few years back,\nthere were said to be a hundred lions, which were the terror of the\nsurrounding villages. One of these lions in recent years killed an\nofficer who formed one of a shooting party organised for the benefit\nof one of the former governors of Bombay.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI\n\nSOME INDIAN ANIMALS\n\n     The squirrel. The tame antelope. Effect of the railway.\n     Monkeys in Delhi. In the jungle. Wild pigs; their\n     destruction. The mongoose. The buffalo; its milk; its\n     disposition. The Indian donkey. Hard labour. Poor fare.\n     Indian callousness. Elephants. Camels. The horse.\n\n\nIn the jungle of trees and coarse vegetation which surrounds many of\nthe old-fashioned bungalows in India, the shrill, nor very musical\ncall of the squirrel--half cry and half whistle--may frequently be\nheard. They gambol about the trees, and run up the walls of the\nbungalow, and chase each other along the eaves with apparent gaiety\nand freedom from care. But as you watch them through the chinks of the\nblinds made of slender reeds, which shade the verandah from the glare\nof the sun, you see signs that all is not harmony even in their small\nworld.\n\nThe grey and black striped fur of the squirrel always appears\nspotlessly clean, and in all their spare moments they are busy at\ntheir toilet. The bushy tail is their chief beauty, and it is scarcely\never at rest. Like so many other animals, they betray their varying\nemotions by the way in which they frisk it about. Their manners are\nbeautiful, and when they have got hold of a choice morsel they take it\nin their paws, and sitting on their haunches eat it with evident\nenjoyment, but with a certain polish and grace of manner pretty to\nsee. Young squirrels are easily tamed, and soon get reconciled to\nmaking their home in the jacket pocket of a schoolboy.\n\nWhen I was staying in the bungalow of a country mission, an\nexquisitely graceful antelope stepped into the verandah, and entering\nthe room where we were breakfasting, went up to my host and asked for\nfood. He had tamed it when young, but it was now living a semi-wild\nlife, and was often absent in the jungle for days together. In some\nparts of India various kinds of deer may be seen from the windows of\nthe train. The making of a line of railway naturally has the tendency\nto drive the wild creatures of the district deeper into the jungle,\nbut after a while they to some extent get accustomed to the passing of\nthe train, and delightful glimpses of animal life can sometimes be got\nwhen travelling. Monkeys, for instance, have insatiable curiosity, and\nwhen they have got over their first alarm the quaint sight may\nsometimes be seen of a row of monkeys seated on the top of the\nboundary wall to watch the train go by.\n\nMonkeys have become lawless citizens of Delhi, and will no doubt\ngreatly welcome the enlarged scope for mischief which the new city\nwill open out to them. They travel in troops over the flat roofs, and\nare very bold and mischievous, and great thieves. But monkeys must be\nstudied in their wild freedom in the woods to appreciate them. When\nseen leaping from tree to tree with refreshing elasticity, or from\nrock to rock in the open country, their spirit of fun and mischief\nhaving full scope, the sight is a delightful one. They stick very\nclosely to their own districts, although now and then a solitary\nmonkey will detach himself from the rest and search for pastures new.\n\nWild pigs are common in some parts, looking like the poor relations of\ntheir tame brethren. They do great harm amongst crops, and no weapon\nis of much avail against them except the gun. The Christian who shot\nthe panther mentioned in the last chapter was largely employed by the\nHindu farmers round about to shoot any wild pig that came into their\nfields. It was for him a profitable job, because, besides his fee, he\ngot the carcase of the pig, for which he could always get Rs. 10 from\na Parsee, who regarded the flesh as a great luxury. Wild pigs are also\nchased in the so-called \"sport\" of pig-sticking, which is popular\namongst some English residents.\n\nNow and then the mongoose, useful as a destroyer of snakes and rats,\nmay be caught sight of, with his long coarse fur, running across the\nroad, or hunting along a fence, much in the same way as a weasel\nshows himself in England, although the mongoose is a good deal larger.\nSometimes they will even venture into a bungalow to prospect, and\nyoung ones are easily tamed and become domestic pets.\n\nEvery morning a lumbering buffalo shambles into the compound to be\nmilked on the premises, in order to ensure getting the unadulterated\narticle. Even then it is expedient to look into the bottom of the\nvessel to see that no water has been put there before the milking\nbegins. Buffalo's milk is not very rich, and the cream, such as it is,\nproduces a white and tasteless butter, which has generally to be\ndoctored and coloured before an Englishman will look at it.\n\nThe buffalo for the greater part of the year has not much flesh on his\nhuge skeleton, and is a sorrowful-looking creature with an\nexpressionless eye and an inky skin, and often with enormous horns\nwhich give him a formidable appearance. But except when buffaloes\nfight amongst themselves they are not savage beasts, although their\ntemper is uncertain, and they are said to be liable to attack an\nEnglishman in districts where they are not accustomed to the sight.\nGenerally buffaloes appear to take no interest whatever in life,\nexcept to regard it as a burden too heavy to bear. A whole herd is\nsent out to graze under the care of a small boy; they are in\nastonishing subjection to his despotic rule.\n\nThe Indian donkey is very small, and its foal is a beautiful little\ncreature; but its life-long sentence of hard labour begins early. It\nspends its days carrying great weights of earth, or brick, or stone,\nor gravel, in panniers made of coarse sacking, for buildings,\nroad-making, and the like. They work in droves of a dozen, or twenty,\nor more, according to the prosperity of the contractor. When they have\ndelivered their burden, the men and boys who are in charge each mount\na donkey, the legs of the men almost touching the ground, and the\ncavalcade goes for a fresh load, often at full gallop.\n\nIt is an understood thing that an Indian donkey finds its own food,\nhow and where he can, in odd moments during the day, or at night when\nhe is turned adrift to wander as far as his hobbled legs can take him.\nThe brief period of plenty, when grass springs up after the rains, is\nso brief that it must only make the rest of the year appear the more\nblank by way of contrast. Indians are credited with being humane,\nbecause they are unwilling to take life, but there are probably few\npeople who are so callous concerning the sufferings of the animal\nworld. The owners of the donkeys have a cruel custom of slitting their\nnostrils, because it is supposed to moderate the loudness of their\nbray.\n\n[Illustration: MILKING THE BUFFALO.]\n\nElephants are used much less as beasts of burden than was the case in\ndays gone by. Some are employed in military service and in the pursuit\nof big game, but their chief function is to make an imposing\nappearance on grand occasions in some of the native states. But the\nfact that elephants were not used in the royal processions at the last\nDelhi Durbar, will probably lead to their being gradually less used\neven for ceremonial purposes. Camels are employed for all sorts of\nwork in Northern India, and add greatly to the picturesqueness of the\nroad and street traffic. The horse plays a subordinate part,\ncomparatively speaking, in the labours of India, except for hack duty.\nAnd though wealthy people, both English and Indian, drive handsome\nhorses, the motor-car is rapidly taking their place in the service of\nthe rich, or the prosperous professional, of all nations.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII\n\nTHE INDIAN WORLD OF NATURE\n\n     The Southern Cross. Crocodiles. Fire-flies. Locusts; their\n     ravages. Indian birds; they cannot sing; their plumage. The\n     \"brain-fever\" bird. Swallows. Peewits. Vultures. Crows.\n     Kites. Tameness of the birds.\n\n\nIn spite of the expression, \"a traveller's tale,\" being equivalent to\nsaying that a story is probably untrue, your confidence in the general\nveracity of the traveller is strengthened when you find that certain\nthings are even more beautiful or strange than books of travel led you\nto expect. For instance, the Southern Cross is a glorious\nconstellation and an undoubted cross, and entirely satisfying, so that\nyou are not disturbed by the opinions of the few who say that it is\ndisappointing. Whether you see it for the first time from the deck of\nthe steamer in the Red Sea, or for the hundredth time high up in the\nair over the heathen City of Poona, as if it claimed victory over it,\nthe sight is always equally inspiring.\n\nThe view of crocodiles lying on the mud-bank of a river in Bengal\ninspired confidence in the accuracy of early teachings, because they\nwere so like the hideous monster in the picture hung on the nursery\nwall. A crocodile can see and breathe while the whole of its body is\nimmersed in the water, because its eyes and nostrils are on a plane on\nthe surface of the head. A person incautiously bathing, or dipping\nwater out of the river, may be suddenly seized by a crocodile who,\nthough on the watch, is buried in the muddy water and invisible. Every\nyear a certain number of human lives are lost in this way. Cattle and\nother animals coming to the river-side to drink are dragged into the\nwater and devoured. The Poona river, swollen to a torrent in the\nrains, and for the rest of the year reduced to a small stream,\nmeandering along a stony and rocky bed, is not suited to the habits of\na crocodile, and there are none.\n\nThe brilliance of fire-flies is quite beyond the description usually\nfound in books. They flash hither and thither like tiny electric\nlamps, and they are so numerous in certain places at certain times\nthat they might be supposed to be some organised scheme of fairy\nillumination on a large scale. Boys sometimes capture two or three and\nput them into a bit of muslin and carry them about as lamps, and the\nlight they give is quite appreciable. The insect itself is a\ndull-looking little creature, apart from its luminosity.\n\nAnother astonishing experience in which the reality at least equals\nthe descriptions, is a visitation of locusts. When you hear for the\nfirst time the peculiar rustling sound made by the beating of the\ncountless wings of the vast army which sweeps past in an unbroken\nstream for hours, you realise what an invasion of locusts really\nmeans. Military terms, such as \"army,\" \"invasion,\" are strictly\napplicable, because locusts come with a rush and determination, and a\nmilitary precision, and an evident unanimity of purpose, which\nsuggests the movements of soldiers under orders. This idea is\naccentuated when the head and body of the locust is of a bright red\ncolour.\n\nThe rapid destruction which they cause has also been described with\nfidelity. They have jaws of great power, and when they take possession\nof a tree it is stripped in ten minutes or so. When locusts settle\ndown on a group of trees, the colour of each tree is instantaneously\nchanged from green to red, because there is practically a locust to\nevery leaf. When they travel on again, the tree they leave behind them\nis bare as an English tree in mid-winter. Little can be done to arrest\ntheir progress. An ordinary garden may be protected to some extent by\nbeating the trees with poles, and so driving off the locusts as fast\nas they alight. But to protect any large area in this way is\nimpossible.\n\nThe natives try to frighten them by making a deafening din, beating\ntom-toms and tin cans, but it is doubtful whether the locusts pay any\nheed to these demonstrations. A few people amongst the lower castes\neat locusts, but they are not sought after by Indians in general.\nMonkeys, dogs, and some birds eat them, but their numbers are so vast\nthat none of their enemies produce any appreciable diminution.\n\nIn the Indian world of nature the sweet melody of the birds of England\nis absent. No Indian bird knows how to sing. Some make a brave\nattempt, but they break down after the third note. The so-called\nIndian nightingale only deserves its name because its performance is a\nshade less disappointing than that of the rest. Nor do the birds\ncompensate for their lack of musical power by the splendour of their\nplumage. It is generally supposed that plants and animals in the\ntropics must necessarily be brilliant in colour. But many English\nbirds equal Indian ones even in this respect. For instance, the green\nwood-pecker with his red crest is scarcely less gorgeous than the\ngreen parrot, and the kingfisher only comes behind its Indian relative\nin size. The plumage of the golden oriole is certainly sumptuous, and\nbrilliant sunshine has, of course, the effect of showing off colour to\nthe best advantage.\n\nThough Indian birds cannot sing, they shout, and scream, and whistle.\nWhat is known amongst English residents as the \"brain-fever\" bird, is\ncommon in some districts. He makes a series of sounds, thought by some\nto resemble this word, over and over again with increasing rapidity\nand shrillness, until he breaks down and begins afresh. To people\nactually suffering from the ordinary fever so common in India he is\nsometimes a serious annoyance, because it is almost impossible not to\nfollow him mentally in his incessant repetition of \"brain fever.\" To a\nfew fortunate people his peculiar note does not suggest these words.\nEven the Indian sparrow drowns conversation with his shrill chirp,\ntaking advantage of the ever-open doors and windows to invade the\nbungalow, and making determined efforts to make his nest in the most\ninconvenient places.\n\nThe swallows which build in the verandah are like old friends, and are\nalways welcome. The curious cry which they make as they wheel in and\nout of the verandah in the last few minutes before they plunge into\nbed under the eaves, sounds almost melodious by contrast with the\nstrange noises made by other birds. There is also a species of peewit\nwho utters a rather pretty call, which might be supposed to be the\nMarathi version of what the English peewit says.\n\nVultures are as uncanny-looking as they are painted, and to see them\nwaiting on the trees near the erections where Parsees put out their\ndead to be devoured, is not a pleasant sight. They also sit and watch\nnear the Hindu burning-grounds, which suggests the uncomfortable idea\nthat pickings are to be had there also. The rapidity with which they\ncollect from all parts and swoop down upon the dead carcase of an\nanimal is astonishing to witness. Their value as scavengers is great,\nand in a very short time nothing is left of the carcase but bare\nbones.\n\nCrows are also useful as scavengers. Nevertheless, they are a great\nnuisance, especially in Bombay. Their loud cawing is often most\ndistracting; but they are also bold thieves, and do not hesitate to\nenter houses when they see their opportunity and to carry off any\nportable article which comes first to hand, even when it is of no\npossible use to them. Some of the birds of prey are beautiful objects,\non account of their size, and the boldness of their flight. Kites\nwheel about in the air in large numbers around Poona. Since people\ncarry almost everything upon their heads, a kite not unfrequently\nmakes a sudden swoop and snatches a prize out of the basket.\n\nFew people are allowed a gun license, so that birds are less afraid of\nmankind than they are in England, and favourable opportunities\nconstantly occur of observing them near at hand. A great variety may\nbe met with in an ordinary country walk in the cultivated parts of\nIndia where food is plentiful. Although they cannot sing, many of them\nhave quaint and charming personal characteristics.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII\n\nINSECTS IN INDIA\n\n     Noise of insects at night. Troublesome in the evening. The\n     blister-fly. Bees. Wasps. Cockroaches. Ants in the bungalow.\n     White ants. Scorpions; their sting. Boys callous of the\n     feelings of insects. Bugs. Spiders. Mosquitoes. The\n     mosquito-net. Flies. The eye-fly. Insects resembling their\n     surroundings. Butterflies. The praying mantis.\n\n\nAmidst the many sounds of the restless Indian night, some far away,\nsome near at hand, there is one which, when it commences, drowns all\nthe rest. It is a harsh, metallic, rasping, shrill, unmusical sound.\nIt might seem as if it had to do with some machinery, except that it\nis unlike the sound of any machine that you ever heard. It begins in\nthe room where you are sitting reading, or else out in the verandah,\nwhere you are enjoying the cooler breeze of evening. Loud as it is,\nyou cannot locate it. At one moment you think it is up aloft amongst\nthe rafters, at another moment it seems to be close by. It emanates\nfrom an uninteresting-looking brown insect, about an inch long, who\nmakes prodigious jumps like a grasshopper. One night when this din\nwas so great that conversation was almost impossible, I was astonished\nto find that the insect was on the table, only a few inches away from\nmy book, and I was able to see his method of making this sound. He was\nvibrating his horny wing-cases with marvellous rapidity, producing\nsuch an amount of noise that, unless one had seen it in process of\nproduction, it would have seemed impossible that it could arise from\nsuch a humble source.\n\nAt certain seasons, and especially when it is warm and damp, the\nevening meal in the country is attended with difficulty because of the\nquantity of insects, especially beetles, which are attracted by the\nlamp, and they appear to make a specialty of falling into any dish\nwhich may be at hand. When camping out the difficulty is intensified,\nand the only thing to be done is to put the lamp at a distance and to\ndine in comparative darkness. Such a variety of insects come that an\nentomologist might make quite a respectable collection in the course\nof one night. One of these evening visitors after the rains is a long,\nslim beetle, green, or sometimes buff in colour, with a small head\nwhich fits loosely into his body. He twists his head about as if his\ncollar was uncomfortable. When alarmed he exudes a strong acid which\nat once raises a blister. He is the more dangerous because, flying in\nrapidly, he often alights on your collar or neck, and the action of\nbrushing him off causes the emission of the acid, and the blister\nfollows.\n\nIn the daytime, bees, black and hairy, immense in size, and making a\nnoise like a threshing-machine, come banging in at the open windows.\nThey are not as formidable as they look, except in their own domains,\nand they quickly depart in response to indications that they are not\nwanted. They know their way out without difficulty, which is contrary\nto the experience of most intruding animals.\n\nA solitary wasp is apt to select inconvenient places in which to build\na mud-cell wherein to deposit its egg, and the store of live\ncaterpillars destined to be the food of its young when hatched. You\nfind a keyhole, or the tap of a filter, filled with mud as the result\nof this wasp's labours. It works so rapidly that it generally\ncompletes its job in the course of a day. An even more inconvenient\nsite for its nest is the sleeve of a garment left hanging on a peg,\nespecially if you put the garment on while the wasp is at work. A\nsmall colony of social wasps built their comb under the refectory\ntable of the village Mission-house. They were so determined to remain\nthat for some months they resisted all attempts to get rid of them,\nreturning as often as they were dispersed.\n\nCockroaches, some of great size, abound in most houses, and are very\ndestructive. They nibble the bindings of books, and cut quaint\ndevices, which look almost as if they had been done with a pair of\nscissors, in clothes put away in drawers. They run at an amazing pace\nwhen they think they are in danger.\n\nJet black ants, enormously big and warlike in appearance, come into\nbungalows, sometimes in unpleasantly large numbers, to see what they\ncan pick up. They are not really aggressive, nor do they do any\nparticular mischief. Another kind of ant, very like an ordinary\nEnglish one though smaller, is a great trial to housekeepers. They get\ninto the bread and sugar and other stores, and though cupboards are\ngenerally set in saucers of water on account of insect depredators,\nthese ants often manage to get in.\n\nWhite ants are most destructive in a house if it is built of materials\nwhich they can deal with. In the case of many houses in India, mud is\nused instead of mortar, and the structure suffers greatly if the white\nants take possession. All woodwork, including furniture, ought to be\nof teak, because they are unable to burrow into it. Sound hard floors\nare necessary, so that when ants try to work their way upwards they\nmay find their road blocked. Otherwise, in the course of one night,\nthey will eat large holes in a mat or carpet, coming up from beneath.\nThey make havoc in a library if they get amongst the books. Many\nant-heaps out in the country are so large as to be conspicuous\nobjects.\n\nScorpions may be found anywhere. In your bedding, in your boots, in\nyour clothes, under your books and, out of doors, chiefly under\nstones. You soon get into the way of prudently shaking each garment\nbefore putting it on. The scorpion averages about two inches in\nlength, but they vary a good deal in size, and also in colour. They\nmuch resemble a little lobster in appearance. Their sting is not\ndangerous under ordinary circumstances, but the pain is great, and\nresembles a blow on the funny bone, continuing acute for some hours.\nThe boys, sleeping on the floor and having bare feet, get stung now\nand then, and generally make great lamentations over the misfortune.\n\nIndian boys are like many English rustics in their disregard for the\nfeelings of animals--they appear honestly to think that they have\nnone--and they delight in forming a chain of scorpions by making them\ngrip each other, which they do fiercely, and hang on tenaciously. Boys\nwill also nip off the end of their tail to prevent them from stinging,\nand leave them in this maimed condition.\n\nWherever Indians live, bugs are invariably found. Hence in schools\nwhere many Indian children are gathered together these insects are\nsure to find an entrance, in spite of vigilant care and cleanliness.\nWhen the small boys of the Mission moved out from their old quarters\nin the city, which like all old native houses was much infested,\nimmense pains were taken to make sure that no bug was transported to\nthe new home in the country. But it was not long before these\nintruders showed themselves in the new house. Possibly they fulfil\nsome useful but at present unknown function as destroyers of microbes.\n\nSpiders are much in evidence, and some are very large and fierce. Out\nin the country I once fairly ran away from a great spider, which made\nfor my foot with a courage and ferocity such as one would not expect\nto find in an animal of the kind. But they are not altogether\nunwelcome in a house, because they help to keep down the population of\nthe insect world. There is a handsome little spider who spins no web,\nand roves about, and springs on its victim like a tiger.\n\nMosquitoes are the most troublesome insects to be found in the\ntropics, although some districts are much more infested than others.\nThere are several different kinds. The one that causes the most\nirritation is smaller than the average English gnat. They are\nveritable bloodsuckers, and the amount of blood which a mosquito can\nimbibe is astonishing. They may be seen so distended after their\nnight's work that they can scarcely fly. Newcomers from England are\ntheir special prey, and their bites often cause a good deal of\ninflammation. The loud hum with which they approach is almost as\ndisturbing as their bite. Most English people have nets of fine gauze\nsurrounding their beds, and some Indians have adopted the same\nprecaution since the promulgation of the theory that the bite of an\ninfected mosquito is the cause of malarial fever. Natives when they\nsleep, generally roll themselves up completely, head and all, in a\n_dhota_, which they use then after the manner of a sheet. The\nmosquito-nets cut off a good deal of air, and people are tempted to\ndiscard them unwisely when the nights are intensely hot. The\nframework from which the nets depend is a frail counterpart of the\nfour-poster of the Victorian age. The net is usually tucked in under\nthe mattress, to prevent any possibility of the mosquito entering. In\nplaces where mosquitoes abound they are troublesome by day as well as\nby night, and they are specially fond of attacking the ankles of\npersons seated at table.\n\nTowards the close of the rainy season flies become numerous almost\neverywhere, but especially in a native city like Poona, and they are\nan unpleasant indication of its unsavoury condition. They fall into\nyour cup, the table is black with them, your food becomes a matter of\ndispute between you and them. But out of doors, except at meal-time in\ncamp, they are not nearly so aggressive as the summer flies which buzz\naround during a country walk in England. Though they could be\ndispensed with without regret, they are probably of great value as\nscavengers.\n\nThere is a very small fly which is popularly known as the \"eye-fly,\"\nbecause it hovers in front of your eye like a troublesome person who\nwill not take a refusal. It apparently thinks that the pupil is the\nentrance into some desirable chamber. Fortunately it rarely gets\nbeyond the stage of prospecting this supposed entrance. Now and then\nit travels round to your ear and prospects there also. But though it\ndoes so at a safe distance it makes an irritating hum, and it is so\nsmall that attempts to flap it away are futile.\n\nThere are many striking instances in India of insects being protected\nfrom their enemies by their likeness in colour and markings to the\ntree or plant on which they feed. The most noteworthy example of this\nis a long insect, so precisely similar to a bit of dry stick that,\nuntil you actually see it walk, you can hardly believe that it can be\nanything else.\n\nButterflies, in the Poona district at any rate, are disappointing.\nThey are larger than the English ones--the scale of most things in\nIndia is big--but their colours are not strikingly brilliant. Some of\nthe large moths are handsome, but not more so than many of the English\nnocturnal moths.\n\nThe most comical insect is the praying mantis. It is of a fresh green\ncolour, often three or four inches long, and something like a\ngrasshopper in appearance. When it alights on your table in the\nevening, attracted by the lamp, it behaves in a seemingly ridiculous\nway. It puts its long front legs together as if praying, and sways\nabout as it does so in an absurdly affected fashion, reminiscent of\nThackeray's description of Charles Honeyman in the pulpit.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX\n\nTHE INDIAN ASCETIC\n\n     The fakir from Delhi. Mohammedan tombs. A visit to the\n     fakir; his possessions; his manner of life; his temper;\n     diminishing austerity; building his shanty; he settles down.\n     Hindu religious community; their dress; how they beg; of\n     both sexes; the community children; the _Guru_; opinions of\n     the villagers concerning them.\n\n\nA fakir (that is to say, a wandering Mohammedan ascetic) from Delhi\ntook up his quarters by the tomb of a departed fakir, who is buried by\nthe side of a footpath, in the field of which the Mission property at\nYerandawana forms part. There are many such-like tombs, here and\nthere, all about India. They somewhat resemble rude altar-tombs in\nappearance, two or three feet high, made of brick or stone, and\nwhitewashed. Generally they are under the shade of a tree, either\nplanted at the time of burial or growing there already. On the\nanniversary of the day of death faithful Mohammedans will often cover\nthe tomb with a kind of coarse muslin, edged with gold or yellow\ntinsel, and decorate it with flowers. That these tombs are numerous,\nand that they are often found in remote country districts, is\naccounted for, firstly, by the fact that this kind of asceticism was\nformerly much more popular than is the case now; and, secondly, that\nas the fakirs wandered everywhere, and ultimately died in the course\nof their wanderings, each would be buried where he happened to die.\nThe Mohammedans of the district would then build up the, not very\nexpensive, tomb as a tribute to his religious profession, without much\nreference perhaps as to the amount of strictness with which he\nfulfilled his obligations.\n\nThe tomb at Yerandawana is in a very exposed situation. The only\nshelter, several yards off, is a _barbel_, which is a tree bearing\nsmall leaves and covered with thorns, and hardly affords any shade at\nall, so that the fakir was exposed to the scorching rays of the sun\nall day long. This has not the same malignant effect on an Indian that\nit would speedily have upon an Englishman, but the former dislikes\nsitting in the sun in the middle of the day quite as much as he values\nthe genial warmth of its morning rays in the cold weather.\n\nAfter the fakir had lived here a while I went to call upon him, and\nsquatted down beside the tomb. A tall slender bamboo, which in such\ncases is usually adorned with a little flag, marked the spot. He had a\nsmall lantern burning at night, which I used to see glimmering when I\nclosed the church door after Compline. His other property consisted of\nthe crutch-stick, which is the emblem of his profession; a brass bowl\nfor water; a piece of sacking and an old blanket for his bed. There\nwas also a large accumulation of ashes from the wood fire on which he\nprepared his food.\n\nWhen I called he was just rekindling his fire, with the help of a\nmatch-box and some splinters of wood which somebody had given him. He\nwas warmly dressed, considering that it was the middle of the hot\nweather, in an old cloth jacket and a coloured _dhota_, rather scanty\nbut of thicker material than is usual in our part of India. He had\nlong black hair, which he said had never been cut. He seemed rather\nproud of it, and often dressed it with a little comb. It was parted\nneatly in the middle and fell in locks over his shoulders, and\nglistened with oil. He wore moustache and beard, the former cut very\nshort. In the neatness and cleanliness of his person he was a great\ncontrast to the Hindus of the same type, who are called _gosavies_,\nand whose heads are purposely left to nature, the result of which may\neasily be imagined.\n\nHe told me that it had taken him one and a half months from Delhi, a\ndistance of nearly a thousand miles, and that he had travelled all the\nway on foot, and that he meant to remain for two months by this tomb,\nand then he would go to Delhi. He had been in all parts of India and\nBurma, and had lived this life ever since he was a child. He knew\nnothing about the particular fakir whose tomb he was honouring, but it\nwas sufficient that he had been a mendicant like himself.\n\n[Illustration: DOWD PHERIDE, THE EGG-MERCHANT'S SON.]\n\nAn egg-merchant is the only Mohammedan living in Yerandawana, and I\nfancy that the fakir was rather a tax on him, although a few Hindus\ngave him small contributions. I asked him how he lived, and he said\nthat he ate what people gave him, and that if they did not give he\nwent without. I asked how he managed in the rainy season. He replied\nthat if people offered him shelter he accepted it, but that if there\nwere no offers of hospitality he sat in the rain. He said that he had\nno books and that he could not read. The true fakir, he added, has no\nbooks; his mind is his book, and all that he ought to know about God\nis written there. I asked him whether he considered his life a useful\none. He said, \"Yes, certainly; I pray.\" \"For yourself?\" I asked. \"No,\nfor others,\" was his reply. I saw he was anxious to get on with his\ncooking, and so I brought my visit to a close.\n\nUnfortunately the fakir did not improve the longer he stayed with us.\nThe Mission children were at first inclined to make game of him. Their\nattitude to the religions to which some of them once belonged is\ngenerally one of intense contempt, and they do not always exercise\ndiscretion in their way of expressing their feelings. The so-called\n\"ascetics\" are feared in India, but not respected, and our children,\nno longer fearing them, are apt to show their scorn. The fakir did not\naccept with humility the disrespect of the children, and I first\nbecame aware that they had been calling after him rudely, when he\nturned and faced them with fierce rebukes.\n\nBut they were not the only people with whom he quarrelled. Both on the\nroad, and at his station by the tomb, I often heard him pouring out\ntorrents of angry eloquence, sometimes to the rather numerous women\nwho visited him, bringing him offerings of food. I was not near enough\nto understand whether he was wroth because the offerings were not to\nhis taste. Also, little luxuries began to gather round him. With the\narrival of the rains came an umbrella. A smart new lamp to mark out\nhis encampment at night took the place of the shabby old one. He\nusually returned from his frequent visits to the Mohammedan\negg-merchant enjoying one of the cheap smokes which Indians love, and\nhe began to put up the framework of a shanty as a shelter over himself\nand the tomb. The materials for the shanty came in but slowly, so that\nit was some time before the fakir could be said to have a roof over\nhis head. Perhaps the faithful did not altogether approve of the\ndiminishing austerity in the ascetic life.\n\nHis shed was completed at last, and he could no longer be said to be\nquite homeless. But though his new house could not be called\nluxurious, his life had lost the edifying element of the complete\npoverty of his shelterless sojourn by the side of the tomb. Nor, when\nhis time was up, did he show any inclination to resume his wanderings,\nand it seems not unlikely that he will remain in his quarters at the\ntomb till _his_ turn comes to die, and then the kindly egg-merchant\nwill erect a whitewashed sepulchre over his remains, and he will be\nreckoned among the saints.\n\nMembers of a large and peculiar religious community of Hindus are\noften to be met with in the Bombay Presidency. Their habit resembles\nthe ordinary dress worn by Hindus, but a good deal amplified, and dyed\na slate colour. It is a rather successful adaptation of everyday dress\nto religious purposes. They travel generally in large companies and\nstay a long time in one spot, where, as a rule, they form a camp of\ntemporary huts. But sometimes they take a house for a while. Small\ndetachments from the main body wander round the villages, lodging in\nan empty house, or taking possession of the village rest-house. They\nremain till the charity of the village is exhausted, and then they\nmove on.\n\nThey beg on a large scale. The \"one _pice_,\" or farthing, which the\nordinary beggar asks for, does not at all represent their idea of\ncharity. They expect any fairly well-to-do person, such as a\nshopkeeper, to give sufficient food for the whole community for one\nday, and they sit in his house till they get it. They do not stand at\nthe door and salaam and cringe, like the ordinary mendicant. They\nboldly enter in uninvited and demand alms. They are much disliked on\naccount of the largeness of their wants. But they are also feared on\naccount of the terrible nature of their denunciations if they do not\nget what they ask for. They profess to be celibates, but a\npeculiarity of their constitution is that the community consists of\nboth males and females, and they camp close to each other. The small\ndetachments who travel round the villages are also mixed companies.\nThere are a large number of children attached to the community, who\nare brought up to follow the same life and wear the same\nslate-coloured habit. So also do the women, who receive an education,\ncontrary to the custom so prevalent in India, and are said to spend a\ngood deal of their time teaching the children. Their explanation of\nthe presence of children in their midst is that they are orphans, or\nthat they have been given to them by parents in fulfilment of a vow.\n\nOne of the small sub-sections of the community took up their quarters\nin the verandah of a shut-up house in Yerandawana. Passing through the\nvillage one evening, I came upon them just as they were about to sit\ndown to their evening meal. I asked a rather pleasant-looking,\nmiddle-aged woman whether the several children that I saw playing\nabout went to school. She replied, \"No. _I_ teach them.\" A tall, not\nvery attractive-looking old man came out of the verandah, and asked\nwho I was. When I gave him my name, he said that his name was \"Krishna\n_Padre_\"--the latter being the popular title given in India to a\nclergyman. He was the _Guru_, or religious teacher, to the community.\n\nI said that I was the Christian _Guru_ of the place. He asked me the\nusual questions as to what pay I got, and who gave me my food and\nclothing, and the meaning of the knots in my girdle. Then he asked me\nif I ate meat, and when I said that I did, he took a large pinch of\nsnuff, saying that I was not a true _Guru_, because a true _Guru_\nnever eats meat. Someone then called him away to supper. I invited him\nto come and see the church next day, but the following morning they\nall moved on to the next village. The Yerandawana people were thankful\nto be rid of them, and assured me that the _Guru's_ assertion that he\nnever took meat was not true; as also another of his assertions, that\nthey never worshipped idols, because they carried one about with them\nand the old _Guru_ worshipped it daily.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX\n\nTHE INDIAN WIDOW\n\n     Exaggerated statements about widows. Easterns naturally\n     demonstrative in their grief. The conservative widow.\n     Influential and wealthy widows. Remarriage of widows. Hindu\n     Widows' Home; its aim and object; a visit to the Home; the\n     daily routine; impressions made by the visit. The True\n     Light. The future of the widows. Custom a hindrance to\n     progress. The effect of caste. The Indian daughter-in-law;\n     not necessarily in bondage. A kind-hearted mother-in-law.\n\n\nThere has been a good deal of false sentiment expended, and\nexaggerated statements made, concerning the condition of widows in\nIndia. The condition of a widow is of necessity a trying one in any\ncountry. She often has to exchange a position of affluence and\nimportance for one of poverty and obscurity. The Indian widow is at\nany rate sure of a home and support from her relations, which is not\nalways the case with the English widow. The stripping of the\nornaments, the shaving of the head, the shabby garments, the meagre\nfood, the hard work, and the despised position of the Indian widow has\noften been described in moving terms. But the Western widow also lays\naside her ornaments during her time of mourning, and the shaving of\nthe head is a natural Eastern outward symbol of sorrow. The Hindu man,\nwho invariably wears a moustache, shaves it off when he loses some\nnear relation, such as a parent or a brother. The plain white garments\nwhich the Indian widow usually wears have nothing of the dreary\nseverity of the garb of the veiled English widow, to whom also scanty\nfood, hard work, and humble station often becomes her portion from\nnecessity.\n\nEasterns are always demonstrative in their expressions of grief. Hence\nthe removal of the ornaments, the cutting off the hair, etc., is\nperformed in a demonstrative way. But the Hindu widow would not wish\nit otherwise; and although all the ceremonies may not be exactly\ncongenial to her, she is at any rate a person of importance even in\nher humiliation, and that is a great compensation to her. If she has\nmoney--and some Hindu husbands leave all their wealth to their\nwives--she will find herself surrounded by affectionate relations, all\nof them ready to undertake the management of her property, and each of\nthem warning her of the necessity of being on her guard not to trust\nany of the others.\n\nAt a Hindu Widows' Home, to be described presently, the inmates dress\nas they like, wear what ornaments they please, and let their hair\ngrow. Someone visiting the Home was surprised to see a widow with her\nhead shaved, and wearing the unadorned white garments. On inquiry, it\ntranspired that this woman refused to avail herself of her freedom,\nand that she preferred to bear the outward marks of widowhood out of\nrespect to the memory of her husband.\n\nOne of the most influential of the residents in Yerandawana village is\na widow, and she is much looked up to. She is well-dressed, wears a\ngood deal of gold jewellery, and her white hair sets off her wrinkled\nbrown face. She was photographed in a group with her grandsons; and\nher relations and other villagers not unfrequently call at the Mission\nbungalow and ask to see the photograph.\n\nThe real hardship for the young Hindu widow is that she cannot marry\nagain. In spite of much talk amongst so-called Hindu \"reformers\" about\nthe advisability of allowing the remarriage of widows, very little\npractical progress has been made in this direction. Many young girls\nare thus condemned unwillingly to lead unmarried lives, their\nwidowhood having often begun in actual childhood. The result of this\nis, as might be expected, in too many cases disastrous.\n\nMany of the attempts of Hindus to establish charitable institutions,\nsuch as orphanages, have been definitely in opposition to Christian\nefforts in the same direction, and they did not deserve to prosper,\nand few survive. But there is one institution, which was founded with\na genuine desire to ameliorate the position of young Hindu widows,\nwhich has not only held its ground, but has steadily enlarged its\nsphere of usefulness.\n\n[Illustration: SARLA KALU WITH HER GREAT-GRANDSON.]\n\nThis Hindu Widows' Home is out in the country, two or three miles\nbeyond our own village Mission. Its aim and object, as expressed in\ntheir report, published in English as well as Marathi, is as\nfollows:--\"To educate young widows from the higher castes that do not\nallow widow remarriage, so as to enable them to earn an honourable\nliving and to cultivate their minds.\" The work, begun on a small scale\nseveral years ago, has gradually developed. The inmates of the Home\nnumber eighty or more, and nearly all of these are Brahmin widows. But\neven Brahmins are divided into sections, and although in the Home they\nare all able to eat in the same room, they sit in different groups\naccording to the section to which they belong.\n\nA visit to the Home is an interesting, but rather pathetic experience.\nThe buildings are excellently adapted to their purpose; substantial,\nwell designed, and conveniently arranged. Extreme neatness and\ncleanliness, so rare in India, prevail. The young women study\ndiligently under competent masters, and they all share in the\nhousework. The daily bath and the washing of their principal garment,\nwhich is part of the necessary routine of a high-caste Hindu before\ntheir chief meal, takes some time. Hindu schools never open till late,\nexcept in the very hot weather, because these operations, including\ntheir meal, have to be got through before the real work of the day\nbegins. The widows have only two regular meals, the one at 10, the\nother at 6.30. But prosperous Indians eat largely at one sitting, so\nthat when people eat only two meals a day, which is the custom in most\nIndian families, it does not mean that they are put on short commons.\n\nThey have a large prayer-room at the Home, in which they assemble for\nthe reading of Hindu scriptures and explanations of the same, and\noccasionally there is a short discourse. There was no idol in this\nroom at the time of my visit, but I was informed that one would be\nplaced there eventually, not because it was in any way necessary for\ntheir worship, but because it was customary. The small _Tulsi_ plant,\nthe common object of devotion amongst women, was the only visible\nindication of idolatry. This plant was growing in one of the\ncourtyards on the sort of ornamental pedestal of brick and plaster\nwhich is the usual arrangement. It was allowed in condescension to the\nprejudices of the minority, and I was assured that it was only the few\nwho made use of it.\n\nThe high-caste Hindu woman has a grave and rather melancholy, lifeless\nface, and the inmates of the Home were largely of this type. But they\ndid not look otherwise than contented, especially the younger ones.\nBut the impression left upon me, as I left the place and bade farewell\nto the gifted and evidently most earnest Indian lady who showed me\nover the establishment, was one of intense melancholy. Here was the\nhusk without the kernel. Consciously, or unconsciously, there was\nmuch in the Widows' Home which was copied from Christian institutions,\nand which never could have sprung out of Hinduism. If only Christ,\nwith all that He has to give, could be received into the Home, what\nlight and gladness He would bring into the hearts of these poor\ngropers after truth! It is impossible to guess whether or no this\neffort may be preparing the way for Christ in the distant future. At\npresent there is no indication that Christianity is a subject of\neither interest or inquiry on the part of any of the inmates, except\nfor that visit which a few of them paid to our village church.\n\nThe serious flaw in the project, from a merely utilitarian point of\nview, is that the future of these young women appears rather vague.\nThe demand for female Hindu teachers in India is at present small, and\na few only have found employment in this way. Three or four have\nbecome nurses or midwives. Knitting, weaving, and other industrial\nwork has taken practical shape and may lead to something. But, so far,\nonly one student has accomplished remarriage, which is what would make\nthe Home a real blessing amongst Hindus. There are now a number of\neducated men who feel the desirability of an accomplished wife who\ncould share in their interests and intellectual pursuits. The great\ndisparity of age between husband and wife, almost universal amongst\nHindus, is beginning to be recognised as an abuse, although the idea\nstill lingers, even amongst Indian Christians, that the husband\nshould always be rather the elder of the two. These young widows,\nwell-educated, trained, and disciplined by their busy life in the\ninstitution, would make excellent wives for the educated Hindus. But\nthe power of custom is so overwhelming in India that, in spite of the\nobvious advantages to be derived from the arrangement, the probability\nis that the remarriage of a Hindu widow will for a long time continue\nto be a most unusual event.\n\nCaste here also, as well as everywhere else, is a barrier to progress.\nI once suggested to a delightful and accomplished young Hindu, of good\nposition but not a Brahmin, who would have liked an intellectual and\ncompanionable wife, that he should marry one of the widows from the\nHome. But he assured me that such a thing was absolutely impossible on\naccount of his caste, and that not a widow in the Home would have him,\nin spite of all that he had to offer her.\n\nThere has also been a great deal of exaggeration, in books about\nIndian customs, concerning the position of the young daughter-in-law,\nas if of necessity it must be one of great bondage. The mother-in-law\nno doubt rules her daughter-in-law from the time she takes up\nresidence in the household, because she is usually still quite a child\nand has to be taught her duties, and especially how to cook. But, for\nthe most part, the mother-in-law appears to be very devoted to her\ndaughter-in-law, and if she sometimes corrects her it is in her\nanxiety that she should excel in domestic affairs, so that she may be\na good housewife.\n\nOne of the farmers' wives brought her youngest son's little wife to\nthe village Mission bungalow to ask us to show her the lad's\nphotograph, which had been taken some time back. There did not appear\nto be any restraint or mystery in speaking of her husband, which we\nare sometimes told in books is a characteristic of Hindu matrimonial\nlife. The young wife, who was a pretty child of about thirteen years,\nwas pleasantly shy; but her cheerful mother-in-law showed her the\nphotograph and discussed it, together with that of another group of\nvillagers, in which she picked out her own husband, with much animated\ntalk, and pleasant smiles and laughter. Except for the difference in\nthe setting of the picture it might have stood for a scene in a\ncountry parsonage in England.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI\n\nWRONGDOING IN INDIA\n\n     The High Courts. The petty courts. Disappearance of the\n     school clock. Methods of Indian police; indignation of the\n     villagers; conduct of the police complained of; an inquiry\n     instituted; unsatisfactory result. Police torture leads to\n     concealment of crime. Detection of crime difficult in India.\n     Thieving. Serious moral wrongs. Successful concealment.\n\n\nIn the Indian High Courts justice is administered with extreme care,\nand sentences are pronounced with a full sense of responsibility and\nwith complete impartiality, so far as it is possible to come at the\ntruth where a large measure of false evidence is almost sure to have\nplace in every case. Indians who have been raised to important\njudicial positions have shown themselves fully competent to discharge\nthe duties of their office rightly, and have shown much legal\nsagacity, together with the other special qualifications which go to\nmake a good judge.\n\nBut when you descend to the petty courts, the state of things is less\nsatisfactory. When everything is in the hands of a lower grade of\nIndian officials, and European supervision is necessarily of the\nslightest, influence and money and favour and luck have much to do\nwith the chances for or against the prisoner. In the tracking of\nculprits and the gathering of evidence, and in all the preparatory\nwork in which police are engaged, it is to be feared that unlawful\nmethods are still practised, especially in the more remote country\ndistricts. Some of the European police do not seem to take much\ntrouble to stamp out these abuses.\n\nWe had an opportunity of seeing something of the ways in which Indian\npolice try to discover an offender, after the disappearance one night\nof the clock from the village Mission day-school. We informed the\n_Patel_, or headman, of our loss, which was the correct procedure. He,\nat leisure, held a sort of court of inquiry in the verandah of the\nMission bungalow; but as nothing transpired he, again at leisure,\nreported the matter to the city police, and two men in plain clothes\nwere sent to make preliminary inquiries. Not being able to ascertain\nanything definite, they began to put in practise their own methods of\nextracting evidence. They caned a suspected boy in order to try and\nget him to confess, and also one of his companions who they supposed\nmight know something about it. I myself saw the marks of the cane on\nthe boys. The punishment would not have been excessive supposing they\nhad been convicted of the offence. The police were also said to have\nbeaten a labouring man in order to extort a confession, because there\nwas a rumour that the boys had given the clock to him.\n\nThe village, usually friendly and easygoing, began to get much\nexercised over these attentions of the police. The _Patel_, a foolish\nand dissipated young man, found his liberty seriously curtailed by\nhaving frequently to attend the City Police Court to report progress.\nThe village _Mahars_, or low-caste men, are liable to be called upon\namongst their other duties to serve as village constables. These men\nwere getting tired of having to act as escort to the boys and others,\nwho were being summoned daily to the court, often being kept waiting\nthere for the whole day. A large deputation of villagers arrived at\nthe Mission bungalow to protest, and my assurances that none of these\nproceedings arose from any promptings of mine were only partially\nbelieved.\n\nWe were left in peace for a week or so, and I hoped that the matter\nwas at an end. But the police woke up again, and set upon Bhau, the\nson of the Mission gardener, on the ground that he cleaned the school\nand thus had access to the clock. Bhau was not a particularly\nestimable character, but having helped to clean the school for many\nyears, it did not seem likely that he should suddenly have taken it\ninto his head to steal an old clock. But it is a disturbing feature of\npolice inquiries in remote districts, that they feel that anything is\nbetter than to let the crime pass into the category of offences the\nperpetrators of which have not been discovered.\n\nIt was now the turn of Bhau and his relations to appear daily at the\ncity court. For a time no cruelty was perpetrated, until one afternoon\ntwo police appeared in the village and beat Bhau in the village\n_chowdi_, or place of assembly, and they ordered him to attend the\ncourt again the next day. As soon as I heard what had happened, I was\nnaturally as indignant as the villagers, and went myself to the court\nwith the boy. I was quickly taken to the Hindu police inspector of the\ndistrict in which Yerandawana is situated. In him I found a courteous,\nEnglish-speaking Brahmin, who promised to come himself and look into\nthe matter. He did so, examined Bhau, asked various questions, and\npromised that the conduct of the police should be investigated.\n\nMeanwhile I had written a letter of complaint to the District\nSuperintendent of Police, and two inspectors, one a Mohammedan, the\nother a Hindu, were sent to hold a formal inquiry. One of these men\nrevealed something of their methods, when engaged in collecting\nevidence, by remarking to me that \"a few slaps would not be of much\nconsequence, but that anything of the nature of cruelty must not be\nallowed.\" It was only in response to my assertion that nothing\nwhatever of the nature of punishment must be used in order to obtain\nevidence, that he said, \"Of course not. It must be stopped\naltogether.\"\n\nThe labouring man who was said to have been beaten was called to give\nevidence. But unfortunately the policeman who was supposed to have\ndone this was sitting outside, and beckoning to him, got a word with\nhim before I realised what was taking place, and the man denied that\nhe had been beaten. I was glad to see that the inspectors showed real\nindignation at this attempt to tamper with a witness. They were both\nvery polite, and in examining the village boys tried to copy our\npaternal way of speaking to them, with rather comical results. When it\ntranspired that one of the boys was an orphan, the Mohammedan\nInspector said in English, \"Oh dear! sad, sad,\" as if it was the first\ncase of the kind he had ever met with, and he recommended the boy to\nseek refuge in the Mission orphanage.\n\nAlthough they professed to be indignant with the police, and said that\nthey would be severely punished, I was not altogether surprised at the\nnature of the report which they ultimately sent to the District\nSuperintendent, a copy of which was forwarded to me. It was\naccompanied by a memorandum, saying that the charges appeared to have\nbeen considerably exaggerated, but that the constable who was reported\nto have \"slapped\" the boys had been \"transferred to headquarters,\"\nwhatever that might mean.\n\nThat irregular proceedings on the part of the police were only stayed\nwith difficulty by the force of English interference and emphatic\nwords and letters, suggests how hopeless may be the position of any\nunhappy mortal in out-of-the-way places on whom the police choose to\nfather a charge. Many tales are told of the ingenious barbarities\nstill practised in the endeavour to extort confessions from suspected\npersons, or unwilling witnesses, and it is to be feared that these\ntales are not without foundation. The apparent tendency of some\nEnglish officials to make light of complaints, does not give much room\nfor hope that the evil system will be quickly eradicated.\n\nEven supposing that torture was justifiable on the ground that it\nleads to the detection of crime, the actual result is probably quite\nthe reverse. It certainly leads to false confessions. People in their\nfear are tempted to say that they have done a certain thing, in order\nto escape from present pain. It has often been urged that confessions\nmade by prisoners to the Indian police should not be accepted as\nevidence, and this is a reform urgently needed. The trouble to which\nthe police subjected our villagers will not deter them from committing\noffences, but it has convinced them, from the Patel down to the\nMahars, that if in the future there is any wrongdoing in the village,\nanything is preferable to invoking the aid of the police. And that is\na serious result, because in an out-of-the-way village, if the Patel\ntakes no action, almost any crime, even murder, could be committed,\nand the fact need never be known.\n\nIt should, however, be added that the detection of wrongdoers is\nbeset in India with peculiar difficulties. The presence of serious\ncrime in a certain locality may be a sufficiently self-evident fact,\nand yet it may be years before it is brought home to its real authors.\nThe Western rogue often betrays himself by his clumsy efforts to\nescape. The Eastern wrongdoer never commits this mistake. While the\npolice are searching for him far and wide, he is very likely all the\ntime living in their midst.\n\nIn the smaller sphere of a household or school, there is a similar\ndifficulty in discovering the real origin of some irregularity.\nThieving may go on in a certain bungalow; all kinds of people are\nsuspected, almost always the wrong ones; if the police are called in,\nthey generally lay the guilt on one of the poorer class of servants,\nwho in sheer fright at being accused, and with the dread of torture in\nhis mind, is almost ready to say that he is guilty. Innocent servants\nare sometimes thoughtlessly discharged without character, only on\nsuspicion. Not unfrequently, even before the excitement has subsided,\nfresh thefts occur, showing that the thief is still at large. And if\nhe is ever found out, which is not by any means invariably the case,\nthe chances are that he will prove to be somebody near at hand, who\nwas supposed to be above suspicion.\n\nSerious moral wrongs may go on in an Indian household quite unknown to\nmost of its members, and so skilfully concealed that they may have\nexisted for years without suspicion. Even when the matter has\nultimately come to light, the head of the household is perhaps the\nlast to learn what nearly everybody else knew. Many Indian schoolboys\nare ready enough to tell tales of each other concerning trifling\nmatters, and Indian school authorities unfortunately rather encourage\nthe habit, and the sneak does not get sent to Coventry as he ought to\nbe. But when something serious has happened which it is the duty of\nthe boys to report, it is rare to find amongst them one of sufficient\nforce of character to enable him to do so, and the unembarrassed\ndenial of any knowledge of the offence adds greatly to the difficulty\nof detecting the offender. Though there are brilliant exceptions,\nChristian principles rarely stand the test of truthfulness when really\nserious complications have arisen. And the Indian story-teller so\nseldom contradicts himself, and if he finds himself in a corner he\ngets out of it so readily, that it is difficult not to believe him,\neven when you have the strongest reasons for thinking that he is\ndeceiving you.\n\nIn a certain boys' school it was known that some evil influence was at\nwork, but it could not be traced to its root. When elder boys left who\nwere thought to be possibly the cause of the evil, it was hoped that\nthe trouble would cease. But several generations of boys passed out of\nthe school, and the evil influence remained. When its source was\ndiscovered after some years, the clue was given by an almost chance\nremark of a small boy. The person who had so long been a centre of\ncorruption had been so little suspected that, even after it had been\nbrought home to him, it was difficult to understand how he had been\nable to secure concealment so effectually that no shadow of suspicion\nwas ever aroused.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII\n\nPROPERTY IN INDIA\n\n     Boundary stones. Government Survey Department. The village\n     map. How the stones are placed; how to use them. The Hindu\n     village clerk. Litigation in India. Lawyers' devices.\n     Conversation about money. Poverty great. Christians and\n     money. English fair-dealing not always apparent.\n\n\nIf you want to buy land in India, it is nearly always difficult to\nfind out who is the real owner. But in one important point the British\nGovernment has made the transaction quite simple. When you are\ntravelling through India in the train, the impression left upon you is\nthat of a country which belongs to no one in particular, because there\nis often so little trace of any boundary between field and field.\nThere are scarcely any hedges or walls, or when they exist they are so\nirregular and come to an end so unexpectedly, that they only add to\nthe impression of vagueness of ownership. But the traveller, if he is\nobservant of detail, will have noticed stones sticking up here and\nthere, bearing some trace of having been shaped with a tool and\npainted or whitewashed, and apparently placed in their position for a\ndefinite object. Sometimes the stones stand alone, sometimes they are\ngrouped in twos or threes or more. The traveller, vaguely mindful that\nthe worship of stones is common amongst Hindus, concludes that these\nhave been put there for religious purposes.\n\nBut that is not so. These are only the boundary stones planted by the\nSurvey Department of the Government of India, perhaps one of the best\norganised and most useful of Government departments. The whole of\nIndia has been elaborately surveyed, and the maps are being\ncontinually revised and corrected, and brought up to date. When making\nthe survey the boundary line of fields and other property was\npatiently and carefully investigated, objections and claims listened\nto, and an impartial decision arrived at. Each village has now its own\nmap taken from the Survey. Not only every field and garden is clearly\nshown, but the position of all the boundary stones is marked, and they\nare arranged on a system which makes a mistake as to the limit of any\nproperty almost an impossibility: unless, indeed, any one \"removeth\nhis neighbour's landmark\"; an offence which is not unknown, but for\nwhich the penalty is heavy.\n\nThe system is a simple one. A boundary stone is placed at the corner\nof a field, or wherever there is an angle, and the boundary is always\ndrawn in a straight line from stone to stone. If four fields meet at a\ncertain point there may be as many as five stones, one in the centre\nand one on each of the four boundary lines a few feet from the\ncentre. The number and position of each stone being marked on the map,\neven villagers who cannot read or write are able to identify the\ndifferent groups of stones by the number in each group, and the\ndirection in which the additional stones are pointing.\n\nFor instance, you want to know the length and precise direction of one\nside of a plot of land. Often there is no indication on the ground\nitself of any boundary line at all, especially if it is uncultivated\nland--neither ditch, or wall, or tree, or any other mark. But you\nstation yourself at the corner, and from thence look towards the\nstone, a few feet off, on the boundary line you want to fix. Now and\nthen your line of vision is made doubly sure by a second stone two or\nthree feet farther on. Then, far away, but exactly in a line with the\nstones which indicated your line of vision, you will catch sight of\nanother boundary stone, and you know that that is the extent of the\nplot, or that at any rate there is an angle at that point. Whenever\nthere is any doubt through a stone getting overgrown with vegetation,\nor displaced, the truth is easily got at by going to some other corner\nand taking the line from there.\n\nEach field is numbered, and in the books kept by the village clerk, or\naccountant, the owner of each plot is recorded, and change of\nownership, or any other matter of importance affecting the property,\nis supposed to be noted. The reason why, in spite of this, it is\noften difficult to come at the real owner, is that most Indian\nlandowners are in difficulties through expenses incurred in the\nmarriage of their children, so that their property more often than not\nis encumbered with mortgages. The average Hindu village clerk also is\nnot to be depended on, and as they are dealing with illiterate people,\nthey have many opportunities of falsifying village records. Also, the\ninveterate habit of procrastination leads to vagueness in the record,\nand transactions take place which are never noted. But there never can\nbe any real doubt as to where each bit of property begins and ends,\nand that is a great boon.\n\nSome of the educated lads of the Mission have got employment in the\nSurvey Department, and find it an interesting sphere. Its only\ndrawback for Christians is, that they are liable to be out in camp for\nmonths at a time in regions where Christian privileges are not to be\nhad, or only at a great distance.\n\nDisputes concerning the ownership of property lead to a good deal of\nthat constant litigation which is such a curse in India, but which\ngives employment to innumerable lawyers of various grades. A young\nIndian barrister, who was proposing to go to a certain town to\nexercise his legal profession, explained to me why it was likely to be\na favourable locality. The people, he said, were for the most part\nwell-to-do, and that always meant a great deal of quarrelling\nconcerning money and land. But they were at the same time very\nignorant, and easily duped. He gave the following instance of the sort\nof thing which takes place:--A man comes into the \"pleader,\" or\nlawyer's office, for a consultation. The pleader says: \"Now, what sort\nof law shall I give you? If I take it out of this book\" (taking up a\nblack volume), \"it will cost ten rupees. But if you want to have the\nbest law out of this book\" (taking up a red volume), \"it will cost\ntwenty rupees.\" The applicant probably agrees to take the twenty-rupee\nlaw out of the red volume, naturally thinking that the best law is the\nsafest, even if it costs more.\n\nIt has been said that if you chance to hear two Indians talking\ntogether, the word \"money,\" or something relating to it, will almost\ninvariably be heard. In our crowded rural road, as villagers go to and\nfro in pairs or groups, I have often tested the truth of this\nproverbial saying. It is undoubtedly the case that perhaps in nine\ncases out of ten they are discussing past or prospective earnings, or\nsome difficulty or quarrel connected with money matters. But this does\nnot necessarily indicate a love of money in the Western sense of the\nexpression. The majority of people in India are poor. The struggle\neven for the small sum required for daily bread is often acute. The\nconditions under which the majority of the poorer class of people have\nto do their work has been already described. Hence the injustice which\nthey have received from their employers; hardships connected with\nmoney earned but not paid, or only in part; the ups and downs of the\ndaily struggle for bread; these naturally form the burning questions\nof the day, and they are the natural topics of conversation amongst\nmen and women. The very scarcity of money intensifies the temptation\nto think too much of it when it has been acquired. It is not uncommon\nto hear the critic of the Indian Christian say that he cares too much\nfor money. On the whole, it would probably be true to say that he does\nnot err more in this respect than the average Christian of the West.\nBut he happily retains a good deal of natural simplicity of character\nand does not pretend to be different to what he really is, so that\nwhen he is importunate for a rise of salary he does not think it\nnecessary to beat about the bush, or to appear to blush.\n\nIt is sometimes urged that though natives may dislike the often\nbrusque manner of some Englishmen, they are more than compensated by\ngetting in exchange English honesty and fair dealing. It is to be\nfeared that this boast has its limitations. In a country where it is\nso difficult to find out what is the proper price of any article,\nbecause the vendor almost habitually asks far more than he expects to\nget, the new-comer naturally begins by paying too much. But after he\nhas become aware of this he is apt to go into the opposite extreme,\nand he begins to pride himself on his cleverness in making bargains\nwith the natives, and he often ends by paying too little, both for\nwhat he buys and for work done. There are even mission workers who\nhave got their influence discredited in this way. The strength of his\nstanding as a European makes it almost impossible for an ordinary\nnative to get redress, if he has been wronged in his dealings with an\nEnglishman. Servants often suffer a good deal from petty injustice.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII\n\nEAST AND WEST TRAVELLING\n\n     Indian railway travellers. English rudeness; instances of\n     this. Seeing off the Collector; his exclusiveness. The\n     \"white man's ship.\" Courtesy of Indians. The European and\n     Eurasian compartment.\n\n\nIt is when travelling by train that East and West are most liable to\ntread on each other's toes. Formerly first and second-class carriages\nwere used almost exclusively by Europeans. Of late years the number of\nIndians travelling in these classes has greatly increased. This is\npartly because at one time all passengers were subject to medical\ninspection, in order to see whether they were suffering from plague or\nnot, but those who were not travelling third-class got many exemptions\nin the process. Also the well-to-do Indian has gradually got into the\nhabit of travelling second-class in order to escape the mixed crowd of\nthe Indian third-class, where he may find himself compelled to sit\nnext a low-caste man whose touch may defile him.\n\nOn the other hand, they often meet with a great deal of rudeness from\ncertain English people, who resent the intrusion of a \"native\" into\ntheir carriage. Even some men who ought to know better are guilty in\nthis respect. But it should also be remembered that men of very little\neducation or refinement come out to India for the sake of the higher\npay and position which they can secure in a variety of spheres. Some\nmen of this stamp are apt to give themselves great airs, and they\nthink to show their importance by their rudeness to the people of the\ncountry.\n\nI once saw a man of this type in a railway carriage shove an Indian to\none side with considerable violence, and take his seat. The Indian was\na refined gentleman, much his superior both by birth and education,\nand speaking English excellently. He was reading a volume of Mark\nTwain for his recreation in the train. Although a good deal disturbed\nby the rudeness which he had received, he did not lose his temper, but\nremonstrated in emphatic but courteous language.\n\n\"'I say, guard, there is a native in this compartment; he must go\nsomewhere else.' That is the kind of speech which hurts our feelings,\"\nsaid an Indian gentleman to me, who was my companion in the train for\ntwo nights and a day. \"And yet,\" he said, \"that is the sort of thing I\nam frequently subjected to, because I have to travel a good deal. Is\nit to be wondered at if we don't feel much love towards Englishmen,\nwhen they treat us in this way?\"\n\nI saw a Scotch doctor, engaged on plague inspection duty at a railway\nstation, kick with savage violence a porter who accidently got in his\nway on the platform.\n\nIf you see a little crowd of bowing, smiling, well-dressed Indians at a\nstation, gathered round a young Englishman in a sun tope, who is talking\nto them affably, and trying not to look embarrassed by the garland of\nflowers which they have put round his neck, you may know that it is\nprobably the Collector, or Commissioner, of the district, who is being\nseen off by some of his constituents. The one or two attendants in blue\ncoats and red turbans, and sashes with large brass plates upon them,\nwaiting in the background, are the messengers, with which all Government\nofficials are liberally supplied. The Collector is the practical ruler\nof the locality over which he is set to preside, and situations are\nconstantly arising which demand a great deal of tact and wise judgment.\nThat Collectors frequently win, not only the respect, but also the\nconfidence and regard of the people over whom they have been set, is an\ninstance of the capacity of the young Englishman, who is in earnest, to\nrise up to his responsibilities.\n\nNevertheless he remains an Englishman for all that. A Collector whom I\nknew, having had his usual \"send off,\" travelled in the next carriage\nto myself. At a roadside station a Hindu judge made for the\nfirst-class carriage in which the Collector had established himself.\nAlthough he had been exceedingly courteous to the Indian gentry who\nhad seen him off, he bitterly resented the intrusion of the Hindu\njudge. The latter was not to be rebuffed, and was determined to\nexercise his right to travel in a carriage in which there was plenty\nof room. The Collector accordingly called his servant, indignantly\ngathered up his belongings, and, having first come to the window of my\ncarriage to tell me of his troubles, took refuge in some other part of\nthe train.\n\n\"Well, this is a pretty state of things, when you find a native in a\ncabin!\" said a young military officer to me, when he saw an Indian go\ninto the adjoining cabin on board ship. \"If he has paid for his berth,\nhe has a right to it,\" I said; \"besides, he is not in your cabin.\"\n\"Well I did think that a P. & O. was a white man's ship,\" replied the\nyoung officer with great bitterness.\n\n\"No doubt you missionaries have learnt to get over the prejudice,\"\nsaid a delightful young army captain to me on board the same ship,\n\"and I suppose it is very wrong of me; but I positively _hate_ a black\nman.\"\n\nThough there are certain drawbacks connected with some native\npassengers, they are much more courteous than the average Englishman\nis, even to his own countrymen. The stranger, who at some wayside\nstation, intrudes into a carriage already sufficiently full, does not\nexpect to be welcomed. At night the large clerical sun hat meets with\na specially cold reception from the Englishman, who peeps out at the\nintruder from beneath his blankets. But the Indian traveller will\nassure you that there is plenty of room. He will cheerfully help you\nwith your luggage, clearing away his own belongings in order to make\nspace for yours; and on one occasion an Indian insisted on my taking\nhis berth, while he himself sat up on a corner of a seat for the rest\nof the night.\n\nHowever good the intentions of kindly Englishmen may be when\ntravelling, it is almost impossible to avoid the appearance of\nacquiescing in arrangements which are trying to the Indian. On most\nlines there are third-class compartments reserved for Europeans and\nEurasians. The arrangement is not merely to protect the Englishman\nfrom the intrusion of native fellow-passengers. The Hindu is at least\nequally unwilling to have the white man as an intruder in his own part\nof the train, and it is generally understood that just as the native\nmust not trespass into the European compartments, so on his part the\nEnglishman should keep out of the carriages allotted to Indians.\n\nNot being able to find the usual European compartment on a certain\ntrain, I asked the young Eurasian ticket-collector whereabouts it was.\n\"There is not one on the train,\" he said, \"but I will soon make one.\"\nAnd going to one of the native compartments, already fairly filled\nwith people, he said rudely and roughly: \"Here, I say, you have all\ngot to clear out of that.\" The Eurasian is inclined to imitate what he\nthinks to be correct English style, by talking in a blustering way to\nthose whom he contemptuously styles \"natives.\" The Indians, slowly\nand unwillingly, but silently, transferred themselves and their many\nbelongings to another carriage, and then they saw three members of the\nruling race take their places in a carriage seated for twenty-eight.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV\n\nCUSTOMS OF EAST AND WEST\n\n     The up-to-date Hindu traveller; his outfit. Habits of East\n     and West so different. The English toothbrush. The Indian's\n     toilet; its publicity. Women's dress. Taking food with the\n     fingers; defence of the custom; the touch of the meat-eater.\n     Servants of Europeans. English hospitality restricted by\n     caste. The Rajah's dinner-party. Instance of mutual\n     misunderstanding. Regrettable results of rudeness. The true\n     religion unites.\n\n\nIn spite of the fact that East and West do not always hit it off\nhappily together when travelling, it is then, more than at any other\ntime, that the up-to-date Hindu tries to follow European customs. His\nbedding, his pillows, his rug-straps, his tin travelling trunk, are\nall modelled on English lines; although excess of colour and\nornamentation indicate Indian taste, and the articles themselves\npartake either of the flimsy nature of most Indian modern productions,\nor else they are cheap goods from Europe made expressly for the\nforeign market. He is nicely dressed in European clothes, but he wears\na turban which he takes off and puts up on the rack, just as the\nEnglishman does with his sun tope, displaying either a pigtail of\nvarying dimensions, or else hair cut in English fashion, and the\npigtail so reduced that it is invisible. He has a watch which he\noften consults, and he is interested in the punctuality or otherwise\nof the train, and will perhaps verify this by frequent reference to\nhis time-table. Possibly he will amuse himself by reading an English\nmagazine or novel from the bookstall. Yet, in spite of this outward\nconformity to the English model, he is still as completely an Indian,\nand as little of an Englishman, as when he wore his _dhota_, or even\nwhen he thought his loin-cloth sufficient clothing. The result of this\nis that, except where the crowded state of the train makes it\nimpossible, the Englishman and the Indian as a rule naturally\ngravitate into different compartments, not from mutual antipathy, but\nbecause the habits of the two nations are so different that travelling\ntogether makes practical difficulties.\n\nThe nature of some of these mutual difficulties may be indicated.\nIndians are extremely particular about cleaning their teeth. But the\nEnglish custom of using a toothbrush, which is only renewed after a\nperiod of uncertain duration, is looked upon by the Indian as a most\nobjectionable practice. To retain, and to carry about with you in your\nbag an instrument which has been used for such a purpose, he feels to\nbe an indication of great want of refinement. His own \"toothbrush\" is\nthe first finger of his right hand, sometimes supplemented by a small\ntwig taken from a certain tree, which twig he throws away after the\noperation. The process is carried out with immense energy, and it is\naccompanied by alarming guttural sounds. The manipulator has with him\na brass vessel, from which he takes deep draughts of water, which he\nsquirts out again with great force. He generally chooses a public\nplace for this toilet operation, such as the front doorstep of his\nhouse in a crowded street. The extraordinary publicity given to many\ndomestic matters, with which we are accustomed to associate the idea\nof privacy, tries the feelings of the Englishman just as much as the\nsensibilities of the Indian are shocked by the permanent toothbrush.\n\nTo the new-comer from England the dress of the average Indian woman\nlooks rather scanty. But, on the other hand, the skirts of English\nladies, sometimes trailing behind them, and possibly gathering up\nunknown defilements, awaken in the Indian feelings of disgust.\n\nNo Hindu, of whatever rank, would ever think of taking food in his own\ncountry except with his fingers. In serving rice and other food to\nguests at a feast, the hand is always the agent used for the purpose.\nIndian Christians, except the few who have become completely\nEuropeanised, rarely take their food in any other way. The arguments\nused by an Indian in defence of the custom were reasonable. \"We always\nwash,\" he said, \"before we eat, so we know that everybody's hand is\nclean. And after the meal, before we go to other duties, we wash our\nhands again. You, on the contrary,\" he went on to say, \"eat with\nspoons and forks which have been in the mouths of hundreds of\ndifferent people. You leave them to be cleaned by servants who often\ndo the work carelessly, and who are perhaps dirty themselves.\"\n\nUsing fingers habitually, instead of spoons and forks, is popularly\nlooked upon as indicative of rudimentary civilisation. But it should\nbe added that those who have always been accustomed to eat with their\nfingers do so with dexterity and neatness. And no one who has seen\nIndians at their meals would be disposed to say that this method of\neating suggests the idea of lack of refinement. But to eat rice\nelegantly with the fingers needs that your Indian social education\nshould have begun in early childhood.\n\nThe Hindu's objection to having his food or water touched by\nChristians or people of low-caste arose, not so much from any notion\nof inferiority of station, but chiefly from the nature of the food of\nthese classes. It was the touch of the meat-eater, in the days when\nthe Hindu was more strict in his observances than he is now, which\nbrought pollution. Contact with Christians was obnoxious because they\neat all kinds of meat, including the sacred cow. Low-caste Hindus were\nmuch to be avoided, because they even eat animals which have died from\nnatural causes. The Hindu servants of most Europeans are chiefly drawn\nfrom the ranks of this class, because they are the only Hindus who are\nwilling to handle dishes containing the uncanny food of the\nEnglishman.\n\nNowadays meat is eaten more or less frequently, either openly or in\nsecret, by nearly all classes. But to the orthodox Hindu it is a\nmatter of wonder that we allow people of what he considers a degraded\nclass to minister to our wants. The native women who act as ladies'\nmaids and nurses, and who are said to be handy and adept, are mostly\ndrawn from the same class, and many Indians are puzzled that an\nEnglishman should be willing that his wife and children should be\nministered to by these women.\n\nGovernors and other important Government officials make formal calls\non leading Hindus in native cities, and stay for ten minutes or so\ntalking polite platitudes, and the Hindu in return puts in an\nappearance at the Governor's levee. But this, though good as far as it\ngoes, does not do much towards bringing about real mutual\nunderstanding. The caste restrictions, which make it impossible for an\northodox Hindu to take food with a Christian, add greatly to the\ndifficulty. A dinner-party in which English and Indians were\njudiciously intermixed, if it were possible, would do much towards\nbridging over the gulf. When Indian Rajahs entertain English guests,\nwhich they do in English style on a most lavish scale and with truly\nprincely hospitality, the host himself cannot share in the meal, and\nonly puts in an appearance at the end of the banquet to take part in\nthe speech-making.\n\nHere is a curious instance of a complete misunderstanding, arising\nentirely from the different customs of East and West. A Brahmin\nstudent told me, as an example of the intolerance of the British, that\na young Indian friend of his in London had been requested by an\nEnglish family to leave the house because he had bare feet. I asked\nfor particulars, and the Brahmin said that the young Indian, having a\nletter of introduction to this family, went to present it. As the day\nwas very hot, while he was waiting in the drawing-room he took off his\nshoes and stockings. In his own country this would have been a\nperfectly natural thing to do. In fact, in his own home ordinary\npoliteness would have made him leave his shoes at the door. The\nmaidservant who had ushered him in, returning for some purpose, was\namazed to see what the visitor had done, and went and reported the\nfact to her mistress. She, probably thinking that they had either a\nmadman or a would-be thief to deal with, sent to request him to leave\nthe house, which he did indignantly, and wrote to his friends in India\nto tell them how he had been insulted by the proud English.\n\nThe rudeness of the thoughtless or ill-bred Englishman is very\nregrettable, because it is productive of that feeling of soreness\nwhich lies at the bottom of a great deal of the smouldering discontent\nwhich, from time to time, makes itself apparent amongst the upper\nclasses in India. And some of the younger Indian men try to retaliate\nas far as they dare, by being in their turn off-hand and cheeky. There\nare indications that the same sort of spirit is spreading to some of\nthe lower classes, which might easily become a source of serious\ndanger. Anyhow it tends to make the process of amalgamation between\nthe two races increasingly difficult and slow.\n\nThere is a great charm about many Indians, and by those who set\nthemselves in earnest to understand them and to cultivate their\nfriendship, a great deal of happy progress can be made. But it must\nalways be remembered that there cannot be complete unity of heart\nwithout the true religion, and it is only by their mutual\nincorporation into the household of God that Indians and Englishmen\nwill become one nation.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXV\n\nSERVANTS IN INDIA\n\n     Government officials and missions. The honest native\n     Christian. Christian servants. Housekeeping in India. The\n     heathen butler. The _Dasara_ festival. Countenance of\n     Hinduism. The visitors to Parbatti. The festival of the\n     cattle. S. Anthony's Day.\n\n\nThere are a few Government officials in India who are not disposed to\nsmile on missionary enterprise, or on those engaged in it. They think\nthat natives had better be left to themselves, so far as religion is\nconcerned, and that the efforts of the missionary are a disturbing\nelement; and his reasonable complaints to officials of this type about\nordinary matters, such as the state of the roads in his district, or\nthe supply of water, often meet with slight recognition, or none at\nall. How far this attitude on the part of the official may be due to\nthe faults, or want of tact of the missionary, I cannot say. Want of\nappreciation of what missions are doing for the people of a country\noften arises merely from lack of knowledge, and most Government\nofficials show generous recognition of the work, and give it their\nkindly aid, when they come into real contact with it and its results.\n\nIt was a pleasant relief from the stereotyped \"board-ship\" saying,\nthat all native Christians are rascals, to hear the following from one\nof the engineers of the great irrigation system of the Panjab. In the\ncourse of ordinary conversation he happened to say that, in all his\nexperiences, he had only met with one really honest native, and that\nhe was a Christian. \"In fact,\" he went on to say, \"the other men led\nhim such a life, just because he was honest, that I had to transfer\nhim to a new district.\" This testimony was the more significant,\nbecause there is no sphere in which there are greater opportunities of\nexacting unlawful commission than in the department which deals with\nthe distribution of water.\n\n[Illustration: THE INDIAN BUTLER.]\n\nThe common criticism of the casual Englishman, when he is talking\nabout missions, that a Hindu servant is better than a Christian one,\nhas an element of truth in it. That is to say, the Christian servant\nwill not be so submissive as the heathen one. His Christianity has\ndeveloped his grit, and he will be less willing to put up with\ninjustice, or violent language, or the habit, once common but now\nalmost universally reprobated, of cutting his pay as a punishment for\noffences real or imaginary. He will not be quite so ready to be on\nduty for unlimited periods at his master's pleasure, and he will\nexpect to be allowed time to go to church. Some of these new\ncharacteristics may be of the nature of defects, but they also mean\nthat he is more of a man than he was in his heathen days. And as\nregards honesty and general trustworthiness, although every Indian\nChristian is not altogether impeccable, he is on a completely\ndifferent plane to his heathen comrade. It is also an unspeakable\nrelief, to anyone whose Christianity is something more than form, to\nhave Christian servants round about you.\n\nHousekeeping in India is either difficult or very easy, according to\nthe view that is taken of the moral responsibility of a householder.\nIf you feel it a duty, or if poverty compels you, to endeavour not to\nallow yourself to be cheated, the process of housekeeping will become\na contest between you and your heathen servants in which, in spite of\nyour vigilance, you will be continually worsted. If, on the other\nhand, you are reconciled not to worry much about prices, and if you do\nnot grudge the traditional gifts of certain seasons, you can obtain\nwhat is probably the most efficient and devoted service in the world.\nYour head-servant will take the entire responsibility of your\nestablishment. When he has learnt what your wishes are, he will see\nthat his underlings carry them out to the letter. Meals will be\nadmirably served, and you will be waited on noiselessly and\ngraciously. Your own unpunctuality, your unreasonableness, the sudden\narrival of unexpected guests, none of these things will disturb the\nadmirable serenity of your Hindu or Mohammedan Indian butler. And\nwhatever the emergency, you will find him equal to the occasion. But\nin return for this, you must not grumble because at every turn, and in\nevery transaction, he is privately supplementing his official income.\n\nThose who employ Christian servants would do well to remember that\nthey ought to take care to pay them somewhat in excess of the small\nwages which will satisfy a Hindu. Otherwise they will find it\ndifficult to live, and may be tempted to practise the same methods by\nwhich the heathen servant probably doubles his receipts.\n\nThere is a popular Hindu festival called the _Dasara_, and this is one\nof the days when stable-servants expect to be tipped, unless they know\nthat their master disapproves of Hindu ceremonies. On that day horses\nare decorated and garlanded, and the grooms bring them round to the\nfront verandah of the bungalow in order to obtain the expected\nrecognition. Care needs to be taken to see that, in the desire to be\nkind, a sort of tacit countenance of Hinduism is not involved. English\nvisitors to India unthinkingly are sometimes remiss in this respect.\nThere is a hill just outside Poona City called Parbatti. It is a\nwell-known centre of idol worship, and for this reason many visitors\nclimb up it out of curiosity, but also to see the view. One of the\ncustodians of the temples, after showing an English priest the idols,\netc., asked for a contribution towards \"the support of the temple,\" as\nhe expressed it. And in spite of the terms in which the request was\ncouched, the priest gave an offering, to the astonishment of his\nbetter instructed lay companion.\n\nHindus have a festal day for their cattle, called _Bile polar_, on\nwhich they give them extra food; their horns are coloured and\ndecorated with gold paper and long tassels made of the fibrous roots\nof a shrub, and a variety of devices are imprinted on their bodies in\nred paint, generally circles or the outstretched hand. The biggest\nbull of the chief man of the village sometimes wears a sort of crown,\nor some farmer who is well-to-do drapes his best cattle in ornamental\ncloths, reaching nearly to the ground on each side. The people also\nset up clay models of cattle in their houses at this season, to which\nthey do reverence. When the cattle have been decorated they are\ndriven, with shouting and noise, up to a temple; and the fact that it\nis their festal day does not save them from the whacks which the boys\nbestow upon them freely in order to hurry them on. Some of their\nowners go into the temple and worship the god, and soon afterwards the\ncattle are driven back with the same demonstrations to their\nrespective homes.\n\nIt used to be the custom (and perhaps may be still) for horses to be\ndriven past the Pope on the Feast of S. Anthony (the patron saint of\nanimals), and he blessed them as they went by. It is good that the\ncreatures who do us faithful service should be gratefully remembered.\nThe Hindu festival of the animals might possibly be Christianised.\nTheir generous rations and their gay decorations, with the exception\nof the paint marks on their bodies, are customs which might be\nretained, and they might be brought in joyful procession to the church\ndoor on S. Anthony's Day to be blessed by the parish priest.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVI\n\nTHE EDUCATED HINDU\n\n     Education divorced from religion. Its effects on character;\n     instance of this in Babaji. Wealth will not purchase social\n     position. The new bungalow. Quarrels with the contractor.\n     Indians nervous about thieves. Night raids. Robberies\n     amongst plague refugees. Skilful thieves. Babaji's\n     inconsistency; removing his neighbour's landmark. The future\n     of the bungalow. Airy houses unpopular. Preference for\n     apparent discomfort.\n\n\nThere are many opportunities in India of studying the effect on\ncharacter of education when divorced from religion. The effect on a\nfew has been that the cultivation of their mental gifts in secular\nstudy has helped them to understand and assimilate Christian truth.\nOthers, with a natural propensity for evil, have had their capacities\nfor mischief quickened by the varied knowledge which they acquired.\nBut with the vast majority of Indians, and more especially Hindus,\nEnglish secular education does not alter their character, and except\nfor the assumption of a few European externals, they remain exactly\nthe same as they were before. Even many of those who go to England, if\nthey do not take up some definite profession on their return, drop\nback so entirely into their former manner of life that you would\nhardly suppose it credible that they had ever been out of their own\ncountry.\n\nIf you live amongst the people you will frequently meet with examples\nof this kind of thing. And it should be observed that it is generally\nin a man's ordinary everyday life that his real nature comes out. Here\nis an illustration:--A Hindu, who was by caste a brass-worker, had\nbeen for some years in the important position of assistant collector.\nHis father having been a good English scholar and a great reader of\nbooks, both in that language and in Marathi, had given his son an\neducation which enabled him to rise to the responsible post which he\nultimately filled. He, in his turn, educated his sons carefully, and\nthey knew English well. The family possessed houses and land, so that,\ntogether with the father's official income, they were well off.\n\nBut in India wealth will not purchase social position, as it does to\nsome degree in the West. Money is not powerful enough to override\ncaste. The members of this family, whom we will call Babaji, did their\nbest to pose as high-caste people, and were ready to dispense lavish\nhospitality if it would have been accepted; but Brahmins ignored them,\nand they never seemed to associate on equal terms with anyone except\nmembers of their own caste, or those below it.\n\nWhen the father of the family retired on his pension, he returned to\nhis own district and prepared to settle down. Besides a house in the\ncity, they had a sufficiently habitable one in a large garden in a\nvillage in the Poona district. But the old grandfather had died in\nthis country house, and was said to haunt it. Servants refused to stay\nthere, and none of the family would live there. So they pulled it down\nand prepared to build a new house in another garden.\n\nI had an opportunity of watching the whole progress of this project,\nand it gave me a good deal of insight into the character that Hinduism\ncreates. Babaji having seen something of English ways during his term\nof office as collector, prepared to build the sort of house which\nwould suit an Englishman. It was conveniently planned, and had many\ndoors and windows and large verandahs. He also employed a contractor\nof some repute. The house was quickly built, and would have been an\nexcellent one in all respects but for certain economies which Babaji\ninsisted on, to the great indignation of the contractor. He bought a\nset of old doors and windows from a house in Bombay which was being\npulled down, and had them adapted to his new bungalow. And having been\naccustomed to deal with petty contractors, with whom it is customary\nto carry on a perpetual war of words, he tried the same plan with his\npresent builder, and whenever he came to inspect, railed at him for\nfaulty work and bad materials.\n\nI asked him why he did this, when there was nothing to justify his\ncomplaints. He said that it was the only way of keeping men up to\ntheir work. There is also an underlying idea that if the cry of faulty\nconstruction is uttered with sufficient persistency, it will give an\nexcuse for cutting down the final bill. Babaji made an effort in this\ndirection also, but the contractor said that unless he got his money\nhe should take the matter into court, and refused to have anything\nmore to do with the job. After much fierce wrangling, the latter came\ntriumphantly one day to show me the cheque which Babaji had just\nwritten for him.\n\nSo Babaji was left to finish off his bungalow in his own way, and I\nthink that on the whole he was rather glad, because he could now do\nthings more in accordance with his own ideas. The English type of\nbungalow is not really suited to Indian taste. A dark, windowless\nhouse with an earthen floor is where the ordinary Indian feels most at\nhome. The first thing that Babaji did when left to himself was to put\niron bars to the windows to keep out thieves, and to close in the\nfronts of his verandahs in the same way, so that they looked like\ncages in the Zoological Gardens. Most Indians live in constant dread\nof nocturnal thieves, and their fear is not entirely without\njustification. In years gone by the raids made by robbers in villages\nwere sufficiently alarming. These depredators went to great lengths in\ntheir efforts to induce women to declare where their gold and silver\nornaments were hidden. The threat to cut off their nose was not an\nempty one, if we can trust the statement that in those days the sight\nof a woman thus disfigured was not uncommon.\n\nMore efficient police supervision has done much to prevent these\norganised raids, although they are still not unknown. But ordinary\nnight thieves are apt to come along wherever they think there is\nplunder, and this type of Indian thief is as skilful in reality as he\nis proverbially said to be. The habit of hiding money, instead of\ninvesting it usefully, or the common custom of turning it into\nornaments for women, makes the visit of a thief to the house of a\nwell-to-do Indian likely to be lucrative.\n\nWhen people moved out from the city because of plague and camped in\nthe surrounding villages, they were much troubled by thieves. The\nrefugees were afraid to leave their valuables in their shut-up homes\nin the city, lest the house should be raided in their absence; and\nyet, lodging in tents and frail huts, it was very difficult to\ncircumvent the robbers. Many people camped as close as they could get\nto the Mission settlement at Yerandawana, under the idea that thieves\navoid the neighbourhood of Europeans. Nevertheless an extraordinarily\nclever robbery took place in a hut exactly opposite the Mission\ngateway. This hut was built of split bamboos tied to a wooden\nframework and then plastered with mud. A house of this kind,\ncarefully put together, affords good shelter, and when the mud peels\noff it can easily be repaired. A widow with her sister and little\ndaughter lived in this shelter during plague time. Their fortunes were\ninvested in the precarious form of personal jewellery. At night these\nornaments were put into two boxes, which they placed under the cot on\nwhich one of the women slept, in order, as they thought, to be quite\nsecure against thieves. In spite of this precaution they woke up one\nmorning to find their treasure gone. Thieves had dug under the walls\nof the house and had made an opening large enough to creep through.\nHow they were able to do this without waking the inmates, and how they\ntook the boxes from under the bed and got away with them unobserved, a\nlight having been kept burning in the room, is one of the mysteries of\nIndian crime. The boxes were found, broken open and empty, a few\nfields off, but the thieves were never detected. I myself saw the\nburrow through which they got in.\n\nBabaji had built his new bungalow immediately behind two dilapidated\ncottages, in which he had sometimes lodged during brief visits to the\ncountry. Everyone took for granted that he would pull down these\ncottages when the new house was ready. They abutted on to the front\nverandah, and occupied the ground which would naturally form the\napproach to the house. But when Babaji, with pardonable pride, was\nshowing me round the completed house, he told me that he had decided\nto retain the two cottages; they would be useful as cookroom and\nstoreroom; besides, they had been built by his father, and so out of\nrespect to his memory he would wait till they fell down of themselves.\nI represented to him what a barbaric arrangement it was, but without\neffect, and next day he was busy making a passage-way from the new\nbungalow into one of the old cottages.\n\nHis next exploit was to try and acquire a strip of land by removing\nhis neighbour's landmark. Babaji wanted to build stables and other\nout-buildings. In digging his foundations he purposely encroached\nabout four feet over his boundary line. When the owner remonstrated he\nendeavoured by bluster to carry the thing through. He pointed to a\nbogus boundary stone of his own planting, and called in the village\nclerk to certify that there was an error in the village map, and that\nthe real boundary line was as Babaji represented it to be; the average\nHindu village clerk being ready to certify anything you like, if you\nmake it worth his while to do so. The owner of the land seated himself\non the disputed plot and defied the workmen to continue their\noperations. The dispute continued for some days, waxing more and more\nfurious, until the owner and the contractor at last came to blows--a\nform of demonstration which in India is impressive in appearance, but\nthe amount of damage done is infinitesimal. I was then asked to act as\narbitrator in the case. I declined; but I told Babaji that he was\ntotally in the wrong. Finally, after all this waste of time and\ntemper, he gave up the struggle and withdrew his forces to within the\nproper limit.\n\nThat a man of education, who had himself been a magistrate, should\nhave made this attempt to filch a strip of land off his neighbour\nmight seem unaccountable. But his natural Indian characteristics, when\ncircumstances prompted it, came uppermost, and his English training\nfor the time being went to the wall.\n\nThe new bungalow proved after all to be a white elephant. The\nwater-supply was limited, and without plenty of water Babaji said he\ncould not live there. His servants, who were city people, said that if\nhe went to live in the country they would not go with him. So the\nbungalow awaits the day, which we sometimes dream of, when it may fall\ninto our hands and become a convalescent home for Indians, which is a\ngreat need, and for which it is admirably adapted.\n\nHouses built by English missionaries for Indian mission workers are,\nas a rule, not at all the kind of abode which the tenants really like.\nA row of cottages, built some years ago in Poona City for Indian\nChristians, has never been popular; chiefly because, besides many\ndoors and windows, there are ventilators in the roof which cannot be\nclosed. In more than one mission school some of the doors and windows\nhave had to be permanently bricked up, because both teachers and\nchildren complained so much of the cold. Visions of tidy cottages for\nIndian Christians gradually get dispelled. Here and there a home-like\ndwelling is to be found, but they are scarce. A young married girl,\nwho had been brought up in refined surroundings and had an unusually\ncomfortable home when first married, had to live for a time in the\nopen sheds and apparent discomfort of a plague camp. Instead of\ndisliking it she settled in with great contentment, cooked her own\ndinner in the open, and was evidently more at home than in her\nwell-built house. This also, as time went on, gradually lost its\noriginal look of comfort. Hens, and goats, and cow-dung cakes, and\nrubbish of all sorts by degrees got the upper hand, and proportionate\nto the increase of apparent discomfort was the increase of contentment\nin the minds of the young couple who lived there.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVII\n\nUNFINISHED PLANS IN INDIA\n\n     Houses begun and never completed. The projected laundry.\n     Abandoned wells. Shunker sinks a well; he gets tired of it;\n     failure of his second well; begins again at his first well;\n     destructive blasting operations; finally gives up the plan.\n\n\nThe marks left of projects begun but never finished is a common and\ndiscouraging sight in India. There is scarcely a village which does\nnot bear evidence of this. A man prepares to build a new house. You\nare astonished at the large blocks of stone, neatly cut and well laid,\nwith which he commences. If you ask him about it, he will tell you of\nthe beautiful superstructure which is to come on the top of the plinth\nwhich he is now building. But after a while the work begins to\nslacken; the men employed gradually diminish in number. You ask the\ncause, and various reasons will be assigned--scarcity of stone, lack\nof water, and the like. Finally the work ceases, probably never to be\nresumed. The owner has got tired of the project, or, not having\ncounted the cost, the treasury has run dry. Sometimes after a long\ndelay, he will build a miserable mud-house on the top of his handsome\nstone plinth. But in innumerable villages you will find examples of\nunfinished houses which have remained in that condition for\ngenerations.\n\nIn Poona City there are conspicuous instances of the same thing.\nNearly all the better-class native houses are very substantially\nframed in wood, the spaces within the frames being filled in with\nbricks, set in either mud or mortar, according to the quality of the\nhouse. The framework of a two-or three-storied house is often\ncompleted, sometimes including the roof and tiling, before the\nbrickwork has been commenced. In different parts of the city may be\nseen the framework of large and handsome houses which have never\nadvanced beyond that stage, and have remained for years\nmelancholy-looking skeletons.\n\nHindus often have projects which are purely castles in the air, and it\nis difficult to know whether the projector is deceiving himself, or\nwhether it is merely in the spirit of boastfulness, that he speaks of\nthe great things that he is going to do. A middle-aged Brahmin called\nat the Yerandawana Mission bungalow and said that he was going to\nstart a laundry on a large scale in the village. It was to be\nthoroughly up to date. He was going to get the most modern machinery\nfrom America. He would only accept as customers those who sent to the\nwash at least a dozen articles a week. The two or three-article man\nhe should refuse. He had called, he said, to solicit the custom of the\nBoys' Home. We were able to give him, readily enough, a qualified\npromise of support, and from that day to this we have heard no more of\nthe modern laundry.\n\nThere is no more valuable asset in rural India than a good well. Hence\nmany landowners begin to sink one. But with the propensity to begin\nand not to finish, there are multitudes of unfinished, and therefore\nuseless, wells. There is a wide stretch of land between the Mission\nfield at Yerandawana and the low range of hills on which the boys are\nso fond of rambling. It is only water which is wanted to make this\ntract productive. Dependent as it now is on the uncertain rainfall of\nthe monsoon, an occasional and ragged crop, which often never comes\ninto ear, is all that it ever produces. More often than not the\nfarmers who own the property do not think it worth the labour and\nexpense of cultivation. Two attempts have been made to sink wells, and\nboth have been abandoned for years. In the case of one of these wells\nat least, water had actually been reached, and if they had gone down a\nlittle deeper there was every probability of an adequate supply. But\nabandoned schemes are hardly ever taken up again, and these two wells\nwill remain unfinished to the end of time.\n\nA near neighbour, whom we will call Shunker, determined to sink a\nwell. He discoursed to me at great length on the advantage of being\nindependent of the canal water for the irrigation of his land. He\nalso described the powerful pump, worked by a windmill, which would\nsupersede the old-fashioned method of raising water by means of\nbullocks.\n\nThe sinking of the well commenced with great energy. Shunker remained\non the spot the whole day in order to see that the men did not idle.\nFriends and neighbours came and sat around and advised, and speculated\nhow soon they would reach water. Shunker was confident that a depth of\n15 feet would be sufficient. The ground, however, was very hard, and\nthe men soon reached solid rock and blasting became necessary. Shunker\nwas full of importance over this, and before an explosion took place\nrushed up and down the road in great excitement, warning travellers to\nhalt. His interest in the well continued until the commencement of the\nrainy season obliged him to knock off for a while.\n\nBut when the time came to resume operations Shunker's zeal had begun\nto flag. The well was already 15 feet deep and there was no sign of\nwater, except that which had fallen during the monsoon. Shunker was\ngrowing uneasy at the amount of money which he had spent. Work was\nresumed, but only languidly. Then there came gaps of several weeks\nwhen no work was done at all, and finally it stopped altogether, and\nthe scheme was apparently abandoned. Shunker, not knowing what to do\nwith the piles of stone which had accumulated from his excavation,\nerected an immense shed with it in his yard, which he said would give\nshelter to his bullocks. But it was piled up unskilfully, and being\nwithout mortar, it soon became a ruin.\n\nIndians do not always profit by experience. It might be supposed that\nShunker would hardly care to risk further experiments concerning\nwells. But following the advice of his father, an apparently shrewd\nman, he sunk another well in another garden. This time a European firm\ntook the contract, and the cost was heavy. The spot chosen\nnecessitated an unusually high platform for the bullocks who raise the\nwater, which added a good deal to the expense. But a fatal mistake was\nmade in the spot chosen for the well. It was sunk close to the bank of\na river whose bed was many feet below it, and though they tapped a\nspring which would probably have provided a good store of water, it\nsoon found its way out of the well to the lower level of the river,\nand the amount of water which remained was never deep enough to be of\nuse. So this rather imposing-looking empty well stands as a\nconspicuous monument of an ill-advised scheme, involving total loss of\nthe money that it cost.\n\nSomehow the failure of this second well stimulated Shunker, contrary\nto expectations, to recommence work at his first well, and in order\nthat the job should be done thoroughly, he enlisted the aid of the\nsappers and miners to conduct the blasting operations. The result was\nthat the Mission compound adjoining became like Lady-smith during the\nsiege. The explosions were terrific, and stones, some of large size,\nfell in all parts of the compound. A bit of rock fell on the stable,\nsmashing a dozen tiles. Another stone travelled an immense distance,\nand falling on the Sisters' bungalow, broke three of the large\nMangalore tiles, so famous in India for their rainproof qualities, but\nproving themselves unequal to the resistance of bombs. Urgent\nremonstrances were for a time unavailing. Shunker called, and in\npolite English expressed his great sorrow that his operations should\nhave caused us annoyance. But the siege continued with unabated\nvigour. At last the actual bit of rock which contained the charge rose\nout of the well to a great height at the time of the explosion, and\nthen half buried itself in the ground immediately behind the\nschoolmaster's house. If it had chanced to fall on anybody it would\nhave killed him on the spot. The display of this piece of rock had the\ndesired effect, and the sappers and miners were withdrawn. The work\nwas continued in more homely fashion with ordinary blasting powder.\nWith this the process is slower, but it is effective, and does not\ndevastate the surrounding neighbourhood.\n\nNone, however, of Shunker's efforts to procure water prospered, in\nspite of his persevering attempts, which he carried to the extent of\nrashness. He went on sinking his well until he had reached a great\ndepth, but there were no more signs of water at the end than there\nwere at the beginning, and he finally abandoned the search.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVIII\n\nGIFTS IN INDIA\n\n     The purchase of land. A plot for a cemetery; the Patel gives\n     one. The Registrar's Court. The gift in jeopardy. Deed\n     successfully executed. The Patel suffers persecution.\n     Consecration of the cemetery. The Patel's chair. Hindus and\n     gifts. Demand for tips. Hindu boys dissatisfied.\n\n\nBuying land in India is generally a troublesome business, and\ndifficulties are multiplied when it is required for missionary\npurposes, because although the owner may be willing to sell, he is\noften coerced not to part with his land by his co-religionists, who,\nas they are not going to profit by the transaction, can afford to\nadopt a high hand concerning it.\n\nIt took some years to secure a plot of ground for the burial of\nChristians in the village of Yerandawana. A cemetery is not welcomed\nas a near neighbour in any part of the world, and in India\nparticularly there are many additional prejudices which have to be\ntaken into account. Amongst these, there is a vague idea that it is\nunlucky to sell land for such an object, and that it may result in the\nearly death of the vendor, or some member of his family.\n\nIt has been explained that this village is _inam_ to a mosque in Poona\nCity. Hence Government has only the same sort of control over village\naffairs that it has over those of a native state, and there is no\nGovernment land in the place. But the Collector gave the Patel a\nfriendly hint that he had better look round and see whether some\nsuitable plot for a Christian cemetery could not be found. He did so,\nand an excellent site on one of his own fields proved to be available.\nIt was on gently sloping ground at the foot of a low range of hills,\nquite away from any habitations, but easily accessible because an\nancient right-of-way led up to it.\n\nThe finding of a site, however, did not mean that all difficulties\nwere solved. Prettily situated as it was, and commanding a charming\nview, it was a bit of ground useless for agricultural purposes. Even\nthe grass which grew upon it was so coarse and wiry that cattle would\nnot eat it. But the Patel's first suggestion as to price was that Rs.\n1500 would be a desirable sum, and he went away rather disheartened on\nbeing assured that his suggestion was impossible. When he came again,\nwe said that as the plot of ground was to be used for religious\npurposes it would be best to put aside mercenary ideas and make a free\ngift of it. The sudden notion struck him as a good one, and he agreed.\nAs we knew that when it became known many Hindus would try and\ndissuade him from his purpose, we set to work at once to get the\nmatter officially confirmed; writing to the Collector to tell him of\nthe successful result of the negotiations, and enlisting the services\nof a lawyer to draw up a proper deed of gift to the church.\n\nAll transactions connected with the transfer of land in India have to\nbe signed and sealed publicly in the Registrar's Court, and unless so\ndone the transaction is not binding. The system is excellent in\ntheory, but it is difficult to prevent abuses in its way of working.\nAll the court officials appeared to be Brahmins. Our cemetery case was\nnearly wrecked in its passage through the Registrar's Court. The\nproceedings in minor courts where there are no Englishmen are\nconducted in leisurely fashion, with much desultory talk and waste of\ntime. Although the deed of gift was a simple matter, the attempt to\nget it registered occupied some hours, and eventually was not\naccomplished at all that day. During the long time of waiting various\npeople about the court went and talked with the Patel, and our lawyer\nfelt sure that pressure was being put upon him to get him to draw\nback. Anyhow, it ended by his saying that he was not prepared to sign\nthe deed that day, and that he must consult his friends on some points\nconnected with it.\n\nThe lawyer arranged for an early date for a renewed attempt, feeling\nsure that it was a case of \"now\" or \"never.\" The Registrar arrived\nonly two hours behind time. The Brahmin officials were all smiles and\naffability to me, saying what an excellent act of charity the Patel\nwas performing. The lawyer sat like a hawk over the clerk who was\ncopying out the deed, in order to see that he did not alter it in the\nprocess, a trick which, he said, was not uncommon. Watching the\nbusiness of the court in progress, I felt how completely the more\nignorant people were in the hands of the permanent officials, and how\neasy it would be to get a negotiation doctored to suit one's own ends.\n\nIt was with almost surprised relief that at the end of nearly three\nhours we left the court possessors of the completed document, and the\nacre of land was now the property of the Church of S. Crispin in\nperpetuity. Villagers and others had been asking the Patel what he\nmeant by making gifts of land to Christians, and that if he wished to\nendow temples, why did he not endow the Hindu temple? The Patel was\ngetting shaky, and was beginning to repent his promise. But, the act\nonce accomplished, he was glad that he had done it, and received our\nthanks with a pleasing combination of pride and shamefacedness.\n\nThe legal completion of his charitable act intensified the wrath of\nhis Hindu neighbours. He was not popular in his village. He was weak\nand vacillating in his attempts at government, and foolish and\ndissipated in his private life. Not only did they taunt him with\ngiving land to Christians, and jeer at him as he passed by, but they\nwent to even greater lengths. Stones were flung at his door at night,\npeople gathered opposite his house and made unearthly noises,\ninvitations to ceremonial feasts were withheld, and at last he got so\nalarmed at the spirit of opposition which he had raised that he made\none of the low-caste men of the village, who are under orders to the\nPatel, accompany him whenever he was out after dark.\n\nThe want of perseverance in the Indian nature has, under some\ncircumstances, advantageous results. A spirit of opposition, unless\nindustriously fanned, soon dies down. After a month or two, the\ncemetery incident had passed out of the minds of the villagers. A\nstone cross, 15 feet high, had been erected on the site, and in the\nearly morning when the sun shines upon it, this cross is a conspicuous\nobject from the high-road. The holy sign in a prominent spot in a\nheathen land is a refreshing sight. When the bishop consecrated the\ncemetery and dedicated the cross, he handed over to the Patel a\nhandsome chair with a gay cushion, as a token of our appreciation of\nhis kindness. In his official position as head of the village he\nsometimes has to receive Government officers coming to the place on\nbusiness. But as no one in the village possessed a chair, he had\nhitherto been obliged apologetically to spread a blanket for his\nguests to sit upon. Hence a chair of state was a really useful\npresent.\n\nOne or two graves were dug in readiness, according to the custom in\nIndian cemeteries, because of the rapid burial necessary in a tropical\nclimate. But for more than three years there was no death in the\nChristian settlement. At last one of the little boys in the Home,\ndescribed in a letter as \"our youngest and our best,\" died suddenly of\nplague, and was buried in the new plot, appropriately enough, on Holy\nInnocents Day, 1911.\n\nSomeone asked, \"Was the Patel pleased with his chair?\" A Hindu is\nrarely actually pleased with a gift, because, however large it may be,\nhe generally regrets that it is not larger. When it got whispered\nabroad that the Patel was going to receive a present, he had visions\nof one of great value. A silver cup, or even one of gold, was\ndiscussed as a possible, or even a probable gift. And though he had\nthe grace, unlike some Indians, not to grumble in our presence\nconcerning the nature of the presentation, the comment, \"only a\nchair,\" was the prevailing sentiment expressed in the village.\n\n[Illustration: THE CEMETERY CROSS.]\n\nA Hindu almost always asks for more. If you are paying a large\nbuilding account, the contractor will suggest that, because of the\nexcellence of his work, it would be only just and right to give him\nRs. 100 extra. The driver of a _tonga_ almost habitually asks for\nmore, irrespective of what has been given him. Hence people practise\nthe innocent artifice of handing to him somewhat less than his legal\nfare, and then when he asks for more giving him the balance, and he\nusually goes away quite satisfied. Porters at railway stations\nunblushingly beg for tips, and remonstrate at the smallness of the\ngift, and pursue the traveller about the station beseeching him to\nconsider their poverty. If you have been staying in an Indian\nbungalow, an array of servants gather round at the time of your\ndeparture, unless the master of the house has set his face against the\nstereotyped custom, and by their elaborate salaams and outstretched\npalms indicate what is expected of you. The disappointed ones follow\nyou down the carriage-drive reminding you of your neglect. When I have\nsometimes warned servants, who were rather officious in their\nattentions, that having no money I should not be able to give them\nanything at the conclusion of my visit, there has generally been a\nperceptible falling off in their activity. Christian servants do not\nclamour in this way, and give a pleasant \"tank you\" when they are\ngiven something, and take great care of an impecunious wayfarer.\n\nWhen Hindu boys ask for pictures, whether you give them one or\nseveral, they at once beg for additional ones; and however good the\npictures may be, they will often hand them back immediately and say\nthey want better ones. It is only when they have learnt by experience\nthat these tactics generally result in their getting no pictures at\nall, that they moderate their demands.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIX\n\nPROVERBIAL SAYINGS ABOUT INDIA\n\n     Inaccurate statements. Village trades dependent on demand.\n     Platforms for the bird-scarers. Shop lamps of the city.\n     Supposed ascetics. Uncertainty of the monsoon; how it comes.\n     Cold in India; how an Indian deals with it; he cannot work\n     if he is cold. Englishmen and the Indian sun.\n\n\nThere are a number of sayings and statements about India and its\npeople which are either inaccurate or misleading, but which have\nbecome almost proverbial, and which are copied from book to book, and\nconveyed to new-comers by word of mouth, and their often mistaken\nimpressions of many simple things are partly caused by the erroneous\nexpressions and descriptions which they have heard or read. It takes\nthe first several years of a residence in India to gradually unlearn\nthe things which have been wrongly learnt. The stray visitor does not\nstay long enough to get his view straightened out, and when he returns\nto write his book about India he repeats the off-told tale.\n\nIt is often stated in books that in each village a representative of\nevery trade which supplies the ordinary wants of the inhabitants is to\nbe found--such as the barber, carpenter, blacksmith, potter, cobbler,\netc. But there is no rule about this, and it depends, just as it does\nin English villages, on the size of the place and the demands of\ntrade. In many villages there is no resident barber, and the people\ndepend on the chance visits of one who itinerates. Blacksmiths are,\nfor the most part, wandering people who come and settle down near a\nvillage for a few weeks or months, and then, when trade grows dull,\nmove on to a fresh pitch. The potter is now only to be met with here\nand there. It is a sign of the increasing prosperity of India that\nbrass and copper vessels are largely taking the place of the\nearthenware cooking-pots. A carpenter is found in almost every\nvillage, because petty repairs to farming implements are an everyday\nneed. He is a man of some importance, and wears a sacred thread like a\nBrahmin.\n\nWhen travelling in the train from Bombay to Poona for the first time,\nI noticed here and there in the corner of many fields a sort of\nlitter, about the length of a man, raised on rough poles about six\nfeet high, and on it a mysterious heap of rubbish. I remember vaguely\nto have read that the bodies of the dead in the East are exposed to be\ndevoured by birds, and I jumped to the conclusion that the platforms\nwere erected for this purpose, and that the heap of rubbish was the\nremains of the corpse, and that solitary places in remote fields were\nchosen in order that the dead might not be any annoyance to the\nliving. As a matter of fact, it is only the Parsees who place their\ndead on tower-like structures, built for the purpose, to be disposed\nof by the vultures.\n\nI learnt in due course that these rural platforms are for the use of\nboys who scare away birds and other creatures from the ripening crops,\nand I have not unfrequently accepted the hospitable invitation of some\nof the village boys to climb up on to the platform and share their\nsport. From their post of vantage they can survey the whole field, and\nthey sling stones with marvellous force and accuracy to whatever\nquarter the birds are attacking. They also make a din by beating empty\noil-tins, and use clappers as the country boys at home do. The heap of\nrubbish only consists of the leaves and grass which the boys collect\nto make their seat on the perch more comfortable, because they often\nkeep vigil for the whole of a long day.\n\nThe visitor having read that to the Hindu everything is permeated with\nreligion, thinks that everything that he sees has some religious\nsignificance. Someone describing his first drive from the Poona\nstation to the Mission-house through the native city at night, said\nhow much moved he was at seeing the little flickering lamps burning\nbefore the \"idols\" in the shops. But a Hindu does not put his\nhousehold gods in his shop, and the flickering lamp was merely his\nordinary shop lamp, which a few years back satisfied his wants. There\nare some modern inventions which Indians have taken to very readily,\nand amongst these are the new ways of producing brilliant light, and\nthe old-fashioned flickering lamp is now hardly to be seen in Poona.\n\nGoing out in the early morning a day or so after my first arrival in\nIndia, I met three or four men walking silently one behind each other,\nand wearing what looked something like a coarse brown habit with a\ncowl, which they had drawn over their heads so that their faces were\nalmost hidden. Having heard so often about Indian ascetics, I looked\nat them with some curiosity and respect, as being probably of their\nnumber. But in the course of the morning I met so many others of the\nsame type, that I began to think I must have made a mistake. The\ncowl-like habit turned out to be the coarse native blanket, used for\nso many purposes by rustic Indians, and which they wear in this\nmonastic fashion in the, sometimes chill, early mornings, or when it\nis wet. Their walking in single file was not in order to assist them\nin the preservation of perpetual silence, but because jungle footpaths\nmake this mode of progression a necessity, and country folk get so\nused to walking in this fashion that when they emerge on to the\nhigh-road they preserve the same order.\n\nThe monsoon, or rainy season, I had been led to suppose began almost\ninvariably on a certain date, and that rain then fell continuously for\nthree months until another fixed day when it left off, after which no\nmore rain fell till the appointed date of the next year. The\nexpression, \"the monsoon has burst,\" which is often seen in the\nnewspapers, suggests the idea that the advent of the rain is\nsomething akin to a deluge produced by the bursting of a great tank.\nIn reality there is, at times, almost as much uncertainty about\nweather in India as there is in England. The most that can be said is\nthat there are several months in which rain, though possible, is\nextremely unlikely, and outdoor festivities can be arranged for\nwithout those anxious watchings of the heavens which is the lot of the\norganiser of garden fetes in England.\n\nBut the date of the monsoon, its duration, and its quality, are most\nuncertain factors and subjects of anxious speculation, and generally\nof singularly incorrect prophecy. The country also is so large, and\nits characteristics are so varied, that the monsoon not only does not\noccur at the same time all over India, but the amount of rainfall\nvaries enormously in localities not far removed from each other. There\nare parts of India where rain hardly ever falls, and there are other\nparts where the total rainfall reaches an almost incredible figure.\nBut it would be possible for a skilful wanderer so to travel about\nIndia that he would never come under the influence of the monsoon at\nall.\n\nNor is its \"bursting\" otherwise than a rather gradual process. Clouds\nslowly gather, rumblings of thunder are heard, lightning flashes about\nthe mountain tops with great brilliancy, the air is close and\noppressive, there is often violent wind, and dust sweeps into the\nbungalow in clouds, a few drops of rain fall, and people hope that\nthe monsoon has begun. But these symptoms are often prolonged for a\nweek or two before the real rain comes, and sometimes the clouds\ndisperse and brilliant sunshine returns for a time. Now and then the\nmonsoon is almost a complete failure in certain areas, and that means\nfamine, proportionate to the area which lacks rain. Even when the\nmonsoon begins in earnest, there is still room for speculation and\nanxiety. In some years it ceases prematurely, and then the grain\neither does not come into ear, or else the ears are small and parched.\n\nWhen a good monsoon commences in sober earnest there is often a\ncombination of high wind and heavy rain which few roofs are proof\nagainst, and a good deal of discomfort indoors is the result. After\nthe first day or two the wind generally drops, and a steady\nperpendicular downpour follows, continuous and heavy according to the\nlocality, and the character of the monsoon in each year. In Poona and\nits neighbourhood the rain rarely continues for many days in\nsuccession, and there come breaks of delightfully bright sunshine. In\nsome years the rainy season is only spread over about two months, but\nin other years it lasts on and off much longer.\n\nIndians are naturally sensitive to cold. In Western India the\nthermometer rarely falls very low. Nevertheless the difference between\nthe day and night temperature is so great in some parts, and the fall\nin temperature in the small hours of the morning is so rapid, that it\ngives the impression of a sharp frost, even although the thermometer\nmay have scarcely fallen below 50 deg.. But in the middle of the afternoon\nof the previous day it may have registered 90 deg. in the shade, and a\ndrop of 40 deg. is keenly felt. In January 1911, without any warning, the\ntemperature one night actually dropped to below freezing, and a film\nof ice was found in a plate which had been left out all night, to the\ngreat astonishment of the boys, and much damage was done to fruit\nblossom and crops.\n\nThe Indian deals with cold in quite a different way to those who have\nbeen brought up in northern countries. If you give him a comforter,\nvery little of it goes round his neck, but he wraps his head up in it\nso that only his eyes and nose are visible, and if his head is warm he\ndoes not seem to mind much about the rest of his frame, especially his\nlegs, which are generally bare. But instead of trying to counteract\ncold by exertion, he delivers himself up to the miseries of the\nsituation. Clad in his scanty linen garments he crouches, and mopes,\nand shivers, and waits for the sun to rise and warm him. Masons and\ncarpenters and labourers may be seen sitting round about the house\nwhich they are building, waiting to get warm, and until that process\nhas been satisfactorily completed they will not touch a tool, however\nlate it may be.\n\nYou ask Felix, the boy who sweeps the bungalow, why he has not done\nit, and he replies, \"I was cold.\" You say, \"You will sweep it as soon\nas you are warm?\" He says, \"Of course.\" And there is nothing more to\nbe said, because it is an understood thing that a cold Indian cannot\nwork. His delight in a fire is intense. People collect leaves and\nrubbish and make fires by the roadside, or even in the streets, and\ncrowds gather round and sit almost into the blaze, so that it is a\nwonder that they are not scorched. Their only regret is that the\nmaterials for the bonfire are generally so insufficient.\n\nThe joy of sitting in the sun to get warm, which the Indian can do\nwith impunity, is denied to the Englishman. He must treat the sun with\nrespect from the time it rises till the time it sets, and even on a\ncloudy day the same caution is necessary. This does not mean that it\nis unsafe to go out in the sun. It only means that no one should step\nout, even for a few moments, without first putting on his sun-hat.\nThis is a complete safeguard if it is made of real pith of sufficient\nthickness, and with a brim wide enough to protect the forehead and the\nback of the head and neck. This kind of sun-tope is very light, but in\nother respects it is a cumbersome and inconvenient sort of headgear,\nand people, especially ladies, are tempted rashly to discard it. Many\nailments, and sometimes serious illnesses, quite apart from actual\nsunstroke, may be traced to careless exposure to the sun's rays.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XL\n\nINDIAN UNREST\n\n     The umbrella in India; now universal; carried by the police.\n     The boycott of foreign goods. Political excitement.\n     Resentment in the Plague Refuge Camp; how it was overcome.\n     The agency of the Church. An improved type of Hindu\n     schoolboy; how they dress; their manners; their interest in\n     religion. Moral teaching in schools. Conceit of some young\n     students.\n\n\nThe umbrella always has been, and is still to some extent, an\nimportant feature of life in the East. Its importance is derived more\nfrom its recognition as an emblem of dignity than from its practical\nutility. It was one of the prerogatives of kings and nobles to have a\ngorgeous umbrella borne over their head by one of their retainers. It\nis only the gradual levelling up of classes that has made umbrellas\nalmost universal. Even up to quite modern times there were certain\nparts of Poona City where Brahmins live, in which a low-caste man\nwould not have dared to walk with an umbrella. To do so would have\nbeen regarded as an act of insolent presumption.\n\nBut when the barrier of prohibitive custom had once been levelled,\numbrellas came in with a rush, and they are now used to an almost\nludicrous extent. A mason may be seen sitting at work on a wall with\nhis umbrella in one hand and his trowel in the other. Farm labourers\nout in the country, seated on the pole of their bullock-cart, or men\nperched on the top of loads of wood in great cities, will enjoy both\nthe dignity and the shade of their outspread umbrella in the hot\nseason. That it is assumed in some cases more for dignity than for\nactual need, is shown by the readiness with which it is discarded when\nconvenient, and its bearer sits cheerfully bareheaded in the blazing\nsun.\n\nThe Bombay police are given umbrellas during the rainy season, and as\nthe rainfall in that city is very heavy, they are a necessary though\nnot a convenient burden for a policeman to bear. In Calcutta they go a\nstep farther, and the umbrellas are served out during the hot season\nalso, and the police are provided with an arrangement which looks\nsomething like braces worn outside, on to which they hang the umbrella\nwhen they find that it interferes with the discharge of their duties.\nWhether the Calcutta policeman really needs this protection from the\nsun may be doubted, when the majority of the people in the Calcutta\nstreets are, by their own choice, entirely bareheaded. But the\nappearance of dignity which the umbrella conveys is no doubt an\nadvantage to the policeman, even if he does not actually need it as a\nprotection.\n\nA few years back umbrellas of every imaginable size and shape and\ncolour and degree of disreputability were in evidence in the streets\nof Poona City. There was a favourite umbrella with wooden ribs,\ncovered with a kind of oilcloth, red or yellow in colour, which was a\ncheap and useful article. But in these modern days of growing luxury\nsuch umbrellas are despised. \"Why do you carry this kind of umbrella?\"\nsaid an elegantly dressed young Hindu student to me. \"I do so because\nit is cheap, and I am poor,\" was my reply. \"You are not poor; you are\nrich,\" was his answer.\n\nUmbrellas from Europe are brought into India in shoals. When an\nagitation arose in Bengal to boycott foreign goods the umbrella\nquestion became a complex one, because their manufacture is\npractically unknown in the country. The difficulty was solved by\nimporting the component parts to be put together in India, and then\nthey could be labelled \"country-made.\"\n\nAlthough now anybody who can afford it may carry an umbrella whenever\nand wherever he pleases, a certain idea of dignity still lingers in\nconnection with it, and the bearer of this ancient symbol of\nimportance often does so with a slight swagger, and all the more so if\nhe is dressed in rags, or scarcely dressed at all.\n\nThe agitation in Bengal referred to above was an epidemic of political\nexcitement amongst educated classes, and more particularly young\nstudents, which spread wider than usual, and threatened to become\nserious. It had therefore to be dealt with firmly. The epidemic\nspread to Poona City (and indeed it was freely said that the chief\nwire-pullers in the movement lived there). As a result of this unrest\nthere was a marked cooling-off in cordiality amongst the visitors to\nYerandawana when plague broke out again in the city, and the annual\nexodus took place. The deportation to a distance of one of the leaders\non the side of discontent in the city, for a period of some years, was\nthe chief ground of local resentment. Boy friends of previous years\nheld aloof; elder brothers, of the student class, were inclined to be\ncheeky; and their parents, as far as they could, kept out of the way.\n\nIn former years crowds of lads came from the Plague Refuge Camp to ask\nfor old Christmas cards. Many of them were boys from schools of good\nstanding where drawing is carefully taught. In order to choke off the\nmere idlers, we told a boy when we gave him a picture that if he\nwanted another one he must make a copy of the picture given, and bring\nback both the original and the copy the next day. The plan answers\nadmirably, and it has become our regular custom. It gets rid of the\nloafers who do not want the trouble of drawing pictures, it gives the\nboys an occupation in their long idle days, it quickens their interest\nin drawing, and in a few instances has brought to light some genuine\ntalent. Boys grow ambitious, and get chalks and colours, and produce\nresults of artistic promise. It also brings the best type of lad\nalmost daily to the Mission bungalow for a definite object, and\naffords many opportunities for useful talks on subjects religious and\nsecular.\n\nBut when the season recommenced after that period of political unrest,\nthere were few applicants for pictorial cards. A sprinkling of old\nfriends of previous years began to bring their drawings, but they did\nthis in the face of a sarcastic opposition which few had sufficient\nbackbone to withstand for long. But fortunately we had at that time\nmany exceptionally attractive pictures, which people had sent us from\nEngland. The few gallant boys who braved the opposition got rewards\nwhich soon awakened longings throughout the camp to be possessors of\nthe like. One by one, at first shyly, and then with growing confidence\nas deserters from the opposition grew more numerous, the old friends\nreturned, to be followed by many new ones. The younger generation\nbeing won over, their elders began to thaw and to exchange kindly\ngreetings, and now and then we were invited to see their hut or tent,\nor to sit down outside for a few minutes' talk.\n\nIt is something to be grateful for when an attitude of distrust has\nchanged into one of friendliness. But from a religious point of view\nthis might not have been of much use, if it had not been for the new\nagent which had come into the life of the village--and that agent was\nthe village church. The effect of the building upon the Hindu mind has\nbeen already told. But in addition, many Hindus got some idea of the\nnature of Christian worship by a spasmodic attendance at Evensong,\nespecially on week-days. The nineteen double doors, most of them\nstanding open in the hot weather when wind and dust are not too\naggressive, give an opportunity for taking stock of the situation\nbefore coming inside. They are also available as roads of retreat,\nsupposing circumstances are suggestive of danger.\n\nWhen, after a rather prolonged season on account of the plague\nlingering longer than usual in the city, our visitors went back to\ntheir homes and we were left in comparative peace, we felt that,\nbesides the dying down of the spirit of opposition, it had also been a\nuseful time of education concerning Christian manners and customs, if\nnothing more. But without the two agencies of the pictures and the\nchurch, I do not see that we could have attained either of these\nresults.\n\nThere are some indications that the efforts which are now being made\nto introduce more rational methods of teaching are beginning to\ninfluence favourably the young Indian mind. That a large number of\nstudents under the old regime have been lamentable failures nobody\ndenies, and much of the discontent of recent years, leading in some\ninstances to serious political crime, has been the inevitable fruit of\nthe foreign secular education which we have brought. But there is a\ndistinctly new type of Indian schoolboy appearing, amongst the\nthousands of lads who are getting their education in Poona City. Some\nof them not unfrequently find their way to the village Mission-house\non half-holiday afternoons, and ask to see the church, or beg for a\npicture post-card. They talk a little English, dropping back into the\nvernacular with some relief when unable to say exactly what they want\nin the foreign tongue. They rather incline to English dress; in some\ncases even substituting knickerbockers, or trousers, for the Hindu\n_dhota_. The picturesque and useful turban they unfortunately give up\naltogether, and wear instead a small round cap. Many of them have\nceased to shave their head, and are rather proud of their hair, which\nthey wear foppishly long in front. They only nominally retain the\nHindu _shinde_, or little pigtail. That is to say, the hair at the\ncrown of the head is left slightly longer than the rest, but it is\nhardly noticeable. Some of them have a watch chain, but there is not\nalways a watch at the end of it.\n\nTheir manners are generally polite and courteous, except that some of\nthem, while retaining their caps, have begun to look upon it as a mark\nof servility to slip off their shoes on entering a church or house. We\nexplain that whereas it has always been the Eastern custom to bare the\nfeet as a courteous recognition of place or persons, the Western\ncustom, on account of the cold climate, has been to bare the head.\nHence in India, where East and West meet, it is optional to follow\nwhichever use the individual prefers; but to enter a church or house\nwithout baring head or feet is not polite. The lads quickly respond to\nthe kindly explanation. Some slip off their shoes; one or two take off\ntheir caps instead, especially when they go into the church.\n\nThis they do rather shyly for the first time, and they are obviously\nnervous as to what going into a Christian church may involve. But\nconfidence is established after two or three visits. Some are quite\nignorant of Christ. Others just know Him by name, and that is all.\nMore than once I have been asked for a photograph of Christ, thinking\nthat He was somewhere accessible, or that He had lived on earth in\nmodern times. Now and then a few lads who have heard scraps of\nChristianity ask questions eagerly, and are delighted to see pictures\nconcerning Our Lord's life. Three new-comers asked me to give them\nsome of these pictures. I said that if I did so they would perhaps\nturn them into ridicule. \"We would never do such a thing as that,\" was\ntheir eager and earnest reply. And though we rarely venture to give\nreligious pictures to Hindus, this appeared to be one of those\noccasions when it might be good to do so.\n\nThis type of boy goes in a good deal for cricket and football, and\nwhen playing a match knows, for the most part, how to keep his temper\nand to play in a sportsmanlike manner. One of their clubs they call\n\"The New English Club.\" Some attempt is made to give what is called\n\"moral instruction\" in the Hindu schools that this hopeful type of boy\nattends. The instruction is, of necessity, of the \"honesty is the best\npolicy\" kind. That is to say, if you cultivate politeness and\ntruthfulness, it will enable you to be a better _citizen_. Or, if you\ntry to do what is right, you will be _respected_ in the world. These\nare not the loftiest ideals, but anything that tends to strengthen the\ncharacter and purify the life is to be welcomed. Nevertheless, the\nattempt to build up a scheme of morals, without Christian grace to\ngive the spiritual power to resist the evil forces which will try to\nfrustrate the effort, can at best only bring about a superficial\nimprovement, liable at any time to collapse. However, these\nindications of an improved type of schoolboy give hope for an improved\ntype of man, which may mean much for the future of India.\n\nSome of the young Hindus of the city, who speak English rather\nfluently, become amusingly conceited in consequence. One of these lads\nvisiting the Mission-house said to me, \"Your English pronunciation is\nnot good.\" I sometimes purposely reply to these English-speaking\nyouths in Marathi, because they rather affect not to know it. This\nsame lad said that it was no good my talking to them in that language,\nbecause that no one could understand my Marathi. When I suggested that\neven his English was capable of improvement, he replied that that was\nimpossible, because his English was \"perfect.\" When I was showing him\nthe church, he asked if he might go into the sanctuary, and when I\nsaid that that was reserved for the ministers, he replied that that\nwas \"superstition.\" Seeing some of the Mission boys, who are simply\nbut nicely dressed, he exclaimed, \"Why do you clothe your boys in this\nmiserable way? you should give them fine and beautiful clothing.\"\nAscertaining that I was pledged not to marry, he asked, \"Why do you\nlead this miserable existence? There is no pleasure in life without\nmarriage.\" But when the Brahmin wife of the schoolmaster happened to\npass by, he was immensely astonished to hear that she was a Christian.\nAfter one or two visits young men of this sort often drop most of\ntheir conceit, and talk naturally and pleasantly.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLI\n\nTHE ENGLISH IN INDIA\n\n     Bishop Heber's sentiments still apply. Misunderstandings\n     about India. Hindu character. Action of dissenters. Rashness\n     of the early settlers. Early rising. Cold baths. The\n     Bishop's dress. River excursions. Conservatism in India. The\n     Englishman's bungalow. Arrangements for bathing; their\n     primitive nature.\n\n\nIt is curious to note, in letters written nearly a hundred years ago,\nthat many of the things now said about India were said then, and hopes\nand fears and perplexities concerning the progress of Christianity\nwere couched in much the same terms as at the present day.\n\nBishop Heber writes: \"I have seen enough to find that the customs, the\nhabits, and prejudices of the people of this country are much\nmisunderstood in England.\" These words of the Bishop are still true,\nin spite of the multitude of books which have been written about India\nsince his day, and the increasing number of people who visit the\ncountry.\n\nEven the same misunderstandings linger. \"We have all heard,\" writes\nthe Bishop, \"of the humanity of the Hindus towards brute creatures,\ntheir horror of animal food, etc.; and you may be, perhaps, as much\nsurprised as I was, to find that those who can afford it are hardly\nless carnivorous than ourselves. And though they consider it a\ngrievous crime to kill a cow or bullock for the purpose of eating, yet\nthey treat their draft oxen, no less than their horses, with a degree\nof barbarous severity which would turn an English hackney-coachman\nsick. Nor have their religious prejudices and the unchangeableness of\ntheir habits been less exaggerated. At present there is an obvious and\nincreasing disposition to imitate the English in everything, which has\nalready led to very remarkable changes, and will, probably, to still\nmore important.\" The same sentiments might be written with equal truth\nto-day, and would be news to many.\n\nThe Bishop also describes the Hindu character with a good deal of\naccuracy, but he adds truly: \"I do not by any means assent to the\npictures of depravity and general worthlessness which some have drawn\nof the Hindus.\" But when speaking of their religion as a \"demoralising\nand absurd religion,\" he is much nearer the truth than those modern\nwriters who try to idealise it.\n\nSpeaking of dissenters, Bishop Heber writes that they are \"very civil,\nand affect to rejoice at our success; but they, somehow or other,\ncannot help interfering and setting up rival schools close to ours;\nand they apparently find it easier to draw off our pupils, than to\nlook out for fresh and more distant fields of enterprise.\" This\ndescription would apply to the mission field in many places now,\nespecially to the action of Roman Catholics and the Salvation Army.\n\nThe amazing rashness of the earlier settlers and missionaries comes\nout in some of their books and journals, and it is no wonder that the\nmortality amongst them was great, so that going to India was regarded\nas an heroic act, and the chances of return dubious. The chief\nprecaution against the sun that they indulged in was to get up\nextraordinarily early, so as to get their exercise while it was still\ncool, and they took a long sleep in the middle of the day. Bishop\nHeber in one of his letters from Calcutta says: \"I held my first\nvisitation this morning at 6 o'clock (!), to avoid the heat of the\nday.\" In another letter, when on tour, he writes: \"I rise by three in\nthe morning and am on horseback by four.\" Again, speaking of his life\nin Calcutta, he says: \"Our way of life is simple, and suited to the\nclimate. The general custom is to rise at six in the cool season, and\nat half-past four in the morning during the hot weather, and to take\nexercise on horseback till the sun is hot; then follow a cold bath,\nprayers, and breakfast.\" The plunge into the \"cold bath\" should be\nnoted, as being the ultimate cause of the Bishop's sudden death. Few\npeople take a cold bath in India now, and certainly not in the early\nmorning. Nor is the chill air in the early hours of the Indian day in\nthe cold weather a particularly healthy time, and nowadays the few\npeople who come to India with the intention of conforming to the\nancient custom of early morning exercise soon drop it. It is to be\nregretted that the tendency now is to go to the opposite extreme, and\nlate hours at night, and comparatively late getting up, grows\nincreasingly common. Few people, however, now look upon the midday\n_siesta_ as a necessity.\n\nThere are authentic sketches of Bishop Heber and others out for a\nride, dressed in frock coat and tall hat, as if they were in Rotten\nRow. The Bishop, nevertheless, seems to have accommodated his dress to\nthe necessities of the climate more than most of the clergy, at any\nrate when on tour. There is an amusing paragraph, bearing on this\npoint, in the journal of the Archdeacon of Bombay in 1825. When Bishop\nHeber was drawing near to Bombay, after a long and arduous tour, he\nwas joined by the Archdeacon, who says in the course of his notes that\n\"there are some points, such as his wearing white trousers and a white\nhat, which I could wish were altered with more regard to his station,\nand which, perhaps strike me the more after being accustomed to the\nparticular attention of Bishop Middleton in such points.\" But he goes\non to say that he felt compelled to forgive him, on the score of all\nhis other excellent qualities. In a note the editor explains that \"on\nhis journeys the Bishop wore a white solar hat, with a very broad brim\n(lined with green silk), made from the pith of the bamboo. As it\nafforded more protection from glare and heat he preferred it to the\nepiscopal hat, his usual dress when residing at any of the\npresidencies. The white trousers he adopted soon after his arrival in\nIndia, from their greater coolness; and he recommended them to his\nclergy on all ordinary occasions.\" It might be added that coolness is\nnot the only thing to be considered for residents in India. A chill of\nsome sort is the cause of many Indian ailments, and shirt and trousers\nof flannel, however thin, should be the invariable dress, by day and\nby night.\n\nOne of the ways of trying to regain health amongst those early workers\nin the East, was to go for an excursion of some weeks' duration on a\nriver. Possibly they had in mind the beneficial results of a boat\nexcursion on the Thames. But slow progress in a native boat, alongside\nthe mud-banks and reedy swamps of many Indian rivers, was about as\nsure a way of getting, or increasing, malaria as they could have\ndevised.\n\nThere is a strong spirit of conservatism amongst most Englishmen when\nthey live in India. They appear to catch the traditional spirit of the\ncountry, and \"what has been must always be.\" Hence arrangements\nadopted by the earlier settlers are continued to the present day, even\nthough in some respects they are particularly inconvenient. The\nold-fashioned bungalow, which is always a one-storied building nearly\nall roof, is simplicity itself as regards plan. But it is certainly\nnot beautiful to look at, and has nothing specially to commend itself\nfrom a practical point of view. Yet it is only very gradually that\nhouses more attractive in appearance, and more adapted to the ways of\ncivilisation, are taking its place. Even in modern bungalows, the\nextremely primitive arrangements for bathing, which formerly had to\nsuffice because there was nothing better, are still perpetuated. The\nbathroom is often a dingy, lean-to shed, opening out of your sleeping\nroom. It has another door leading to the outer world for the use of\nthe water-carrier, as well as for the mysterious being who glides in\nand out as he attends to the sanitary needs of the bathroom in a\ncountry where there is no drainage.\n\nThe actual area for bathing is something like the sink in an English\nscullery, but level with the floor and on an enlarged scale. The hole\nin the wall, as an exit for the water, is unpleasantly suggestive of a\npossible inlet for snakes. Nor is this fear without foundation. The\nhole in the wall leading into the cool, damp, dark bathroom is a\ndistinct invitation to snakes to enter in, which they sometimes\naccept. The wire guard is often absent, or broken. The water for\nbathing is stored in utensils, varying in type according to the part\nof India in which you may happen to be. Sometimes it is kept in tall\nblack earthenware pots, suggestive of those in which the Forty Thieves\nof the Arabian Nights concealed themselves. Sometimes it is found in a\ngigantic sort of round pie-dish, such as a giant might use for his\nsupper. Sometimes a modern galvanised iron tub indicates the fusion of\nEastern and Western habits.\n\nA servant-boy will bring you a pailful of hot water from the\nkitchen--that remote apartment, in some far-away corner of the\ncompound, to which no one ventures to penetrate, unless he is prepared\nto eat his dinner ever afterwards with misgivings. A certain suspicion\nof greasiness on the surface of the water is suggestive of cooking and\nof vessels imperfectly cleansed. It is always rather a problem to know\nhow one is meant to use the water in the pail, which is usually\nscalding hot. A visitor emptying it into the big tub of cold water,\nand having a luxurious tepid bath, found that in so doing he had\nunwittingly used up a store of cold water which was meant to last for\nseveral days. There are many parts of India where clean fresh water is\nscarce, and has to be fetched from a distance and used with economy.\n\nThe remaining apparatus provided for your comfort in the bathroom is a\nwooden board, or rack, on which you squat, while you pour water over\nyourself with a tin pint-pot. It is well to see that no scorpion, or\nother stinging insect, has hid up in any of the crevices of the board.\nA very refreshing bath can be secured in this primitive way, and\nsuggestions for improved methods are scarcely welcomed by those who\nhave got accustomed to, and now prefer, the old-fashioned plan.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLII\n\nDISHONESTY IN INDIA\n\n     Ideal low concerning work. Bribery. On the railway.\n     Dishonest ticket clerks. Servants' commission.\n     Door-attendant's tip. Gifts from native merchants. Changes\n     in modern India. The Indian \"growler\" disappearing. Wearing\n     shoes. Cloth coats of English cut. The daily paper. The\n     villagers' clothing.\n\n\nMost Indians have a low ideal concerning work. If six or seven are\nworking together they take turns, and it is rare to see more than the\nminority in active employment at any given time. Even those who are\nset over them do not expect a fuller response. It is also rare to find\nanyone (except a few first-class artizans) who takes pride in his\nwork, or who can be trusted to do it well except under supervision.\nEven in a household it is rare to find a servant (except a few very\ncapable head-servants) who can be depended on to maintain a\nsatisfactory standard of work, unless he is frequently reminded\nwhenever he slackens off. In teaching lads a trade, the majority of\nthem need to be shown over and over again how to do a thing before\nthey grasp it. And even after skill has been acquired, it is not\nuntil they have felt the inconvenience of being called upon to re-do\nwhat has been done badly, that they realise that it is best to do it\nwell at first.\n\nHardly any transaction, great or small, is completed in heathen India\nwithout something of the nature of a bribe taking place, and the\nsystem is so almost universal that it seems as if it is likely to be a\nlong time before it is eradicated. Hardly anyone will do anything for\nanybody without the stimulus of a reward of some sort. Many Indian\nofficials will not discharge even the ordinary duties of their office\nwithout frequent \"refreshers\" from the people amongst whom they work.\nIt is naturally the poorest and weakest who suffer most from this form\nof oppression.\n\nOn the railway there is almost unlimited scope for this. The doors on\nto the platform of the waiting-rooms, or rather sheds, which are\nprovided for native passengers are generally only opened just as the\ntrain comes in. The rush is often great, and the number of passengers\nis constantly in excess of the vacant places in the train. The\nofficial who unlocks the door leading on to the platform can easily\nfavour certain persons, and keep back others, with very little risk of\ndetection, and it is the traveller who has been most ready with his\n\"palm oil\" who gets through the gate promptly, and so stands a good\nchance of getting a seat in the train.\n\nIn selling tickets to third-class passengers there is vast scope for\ncheating. They are mostly illiterate, and many of them inexperienced\nin the ways of travel. A dishonest clerk can easily discriminate the\nkind of passenger he is dealing with, and when he thinks it safe to do\nso, can quote the price of the ticket as being something over and\nabove its real value, and then pocket the balance. The price printed\non the tickets is no guide to the majority of third-class Indian\ntravellers. In the course of a long day a dishonest ticket clerk, by\nmeans of small irregularities, can add substantially to his income.\nDetectives, disguised as poor passengers, are sometimes successful in\nbringing a clerk of this character to book. The goods and parcels\ntraffic also furnishes a wide field for overcharge, and also of\nvexatious delay when the stimulus of a commission on the transaction\nis lacking.\n\nIf a servant is sent to fetch a _tonga_ from the bazaar, more often\nthan not he will make the driver give him a _pice_ or two, under the\nthreat of otherwise not giving him any more of his master's custom.\nOne of the many servants of the average Indian bungalow sits at the\nentrance of the front verandah, and he is the channel of communication\nbetween the outside world and the powers within. Door-bells, for some\ninscrutable reason, are practically unknown in the Englishman's\nbungalow. If the door-attendant happens to be absent, the visitor\nshouts \"Boy,\" a word which in Western India is applied, not very\nhappily, to any household servant of whatever age.\n\nIf the caller is a _sahib_, the door-attendant will quickly attend to\nhis wants and will bring him into rapid communication with his master.\nBut supposing you are a poor native, wanting to see the sahib on some\nmatter of business, unless you are lucky enough to waylay him as he\ndrives in or out, which he may possibly resent, you stand a poor\nchance of getting near him unless you are prepared to tip the\ndoor-keeper. It is to be feared that even Hindus, coming in an honest\nspirit of inquiry to a missionary's house, have been choked off by an\nofficial of this nature. It is of the utmost importance that the front\nverandah of a mission-house should be freely accessible to whoever\nlikes to step into it.\n\nDistrict officers when they are on tour and living in camp, and who\nare honestly anxious to be within reach of everybody who has a real\ngrievance, have sometimes great difficulty in preventing their good\nintentions being frustrated by some of the subordinate officials who\nform an inevitable part of their retinue.\n\nNative merchants who deal with Englishmen have the idea so ingrained\nthat bribes are a necessary part of business, that they imagine that\nthe way to secure custom, or at any rate more favourable terms, is to\nmake large offerings of fruit and sweetmeats at Christmas, and\nsuch-like auspicious times. One of the results of this is that most\nthings in the Indian markets, and even in some of the shops, grow\nrather dearer just before Christmas, and the notion is spreading\namongst Hindus and others that it is a season for presents and\nfeasting. Some of these traders may even proceed to hint vaguely about\nfinancial percentages, if they think that acceptance is at all likely.\nIt is to be hoped that the tradition that Englishmen in positions of\ntrust are proof against such suggestions, is one that may always be\nmaintained.\n\nAmongst the signs which indicate that India, for better or worse, is\nbeginning to move with the times, may be noted an increase in\nrefinement, a greater regard for outward appearance, and the gradual\nintroduction of things which conduce to greater comfort. The two-horse\nconveyance, called a _shiggram_, which used to represent the \"growler\"\nof Poona City, has almost disappeared. It was certainly a most\ncomfortless kind of carriage, something like what a growler would be\nif you removed all its lining and padding, and with very narrow seats.\nIn its place victorias and landaus have become almost universal, and\nthose belonging to private owners are often well built and nicely\nkept. The number of people wearing shoes of English pattern rapidly\nincreases, together with the use of socks. The Hindu Widows' Home has\nestablished quite a thriving business in the manufacture of socks and\nstockings for men. Indians have been accustomed to go barefoot, not\nbecause they prefer it, but partly because to wear shoes was, like\nthe umbrella, a mark of distinction not to be assumed by everybody,\nand partly because poverty forbade it. But there are times in the year\nwhen an Indian suffers a good deal through going barefoot. In the\nmiddle of the day in the hot weather the surface of a high-road is so\nheated that an Englishman could not tread upon it at all with bare\nfeet, and even the hardened sole of the Indian is put to serious\ninconvenience. Indians say that in the wet weather, when the roads are\noften deep in soft mud, this mud gets in between the toes and is\nextremely uncomfortable. And in the cold weather, the boys' bare feet\nget deeply cut by the chill air of the early mornings which has\ndescended from frosty regions.\n\nMasters in the better-class schools and the majority of students, the\nnumerous lawyers, and some shopkeepers, have taken to wearing cloth\ncoats, which are now almost universally of English cut, although the\nnative coat was very effective and convenient. Shops are arranged with\nsome regard to artistic effect, and many of the shops in Poona City\nare now bright and attractive in appearance and contain a varied\nstock. Formerly the shop was little more than the place where the\ngoods were stored, and there was little attempt to attract the\npasser-by, and only a languid effort to attend to his wants if he\nstopped to express them.\n\nThe daily paper has become a regular part of the day's routine of the\nmuch-leisured Hindu, and the demand has greatly improved the\ncharacter of the supply, and some of the vernacular papers furnish\nup-to-date news, and the leaders are written with ability. The more\nstringent measures which it became necessary to put in force because\nof the seditious character of many of the vernacular papers has done\nmuch to purify the Indian press, so that while many of the papers\nretain an independent line, their criticisms are couched in\nsufficiently decorous language.\n\nEven amongst the working classes there is a great advance in comfort,\nespecially as regards clothing. The scanty dress of the Indian arose,\nnot so much because of the hot climate, but because he could only\nafford a few yards of calico. Now he is not only much less unclothed\nthan he used to be, but his garments are of better material and more\nskilfully made. The Indian villager also often wears cloth coats of\nEnglish shape, but he has not made much advance as regards\ncleanliness. He does not wash all over much oftener than his English\nrural brother, except in the hot weather if there is a river within\nreach. He rarely washes his clothes, but wears them till they are so\ndirty that he can wear them no longer, and then buys new ones; and he\nappears to think that this is the best arrangement.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLIII\n\nINDIAN MOHAMMEDANS\n\n     Mohammedans and marriage. Their conception of heaven. Their\n     trading on board ships. The smell of India. The Indian\n     \"send-off.\" Use of the plural. Mistakes concerning it.\n     Unappreciated English jocosity. Indian free-and-easiness.\n\n\nA Mohammedan asked me whether if he became a Christian we would\nprovide him with a wife, and he appeared surprised to learn that as a\nChristian he could only have one wife. \"Our religion allows four,\" he\nsaid. When I urged that more than one wife destroyed the idea of the\nunity of husband and wife, he replied, \"We consider one of our wives\nas being our real wife, and the others are like servants.\" I said that\nthe additional marriages, under such conditions, could only be\ncontracted for the gratification of fleshly desires. His answer was,\n\"If a man can afford it, why should he not give himself pleasure?\"\nAfter this there was nothing more to be said.\n\nMohammedans succeed better than Hindus as men of business, and there\nare many Mohammedan firms who do a large trade. In the harbour at\nColombo and at other ports, Mohammedan jewel-merchants come on board\nthe steamers in order to try and sell their wares to the passengers.\nIn the interval between the departure of one batch of passengers and\nthe arrival of another, some of these merchants, having nothing to do,\ncame over to where I was standing on the deck of a steamer, to talk\nabout religion. They all spoke English in that pleasant way in which\nmany Easterns speak it--rather hazy about the verbs, but clear in\ntheir pronunciation, so that it is easy to understand them. An Indian\nwho knows perhaps only a few English words, generally pronounces them\ncorrectly.\n\n\"Good morning, father, I am very glad to see you,\" is how the\nconversation began.\n\n\"Are you a Catholic?\" I asked.\n\n\"I know all about the Catholic,\" was the reply, \"I was taught in\nCatholic school; I know all Catholic teaching.\"\n\n\"But you are not a Catholic yourself.\"\n\n\"No, I am a Mohammedan; but I like Catholic.\"\n\nSome of the others then chimed in and began to urge their usual\nobjections concerning the Virgin birth, and the Holy Trinity. I was\ninterested in hearing what they had to say, because we do not often\nmeet Mohammedans in the Poona district. I thought that possibly the\nassertion that their conception of heaven is so degraded might have\nbeen exaggerated, so that I was glad of an opportunity to learn from\nthe lips of intelligent representatives of their religion what their\nviews really are. They affirmed that everything that there is on earth\nwill be in heaven, including all that concerns marriage. In order to\nget at the bottom of the matter, I asked whether, as the result of\nthis, children would be born in heaven. They replied that nothing had\nbeen revealed concerning that, but that probably children would not be\nborn. They were, therefore, only anticipating sensual gratification.\n\nI told them the story of the seven brethren with the one wife, and\nthat Christ, whom they accepted as a true Prophet, said that they\nneither marry nor are given in marriage in heaven. They answered that,\nin spite of that, it was quite certain that there would be marriage in\nheaven. It is hardly to be wondered at if, amongst nations specially\nprone to sensuality, a religion spreads which allows four wives in the\npresent, and holds out such prospects for the future.\n\nYet there is something winning and attractive about many of these men\nwith their gentle courteous manners. Passengers coming on board, there\nwas prospect of business, so saying that they hoped that nothing that\nthey had said would have caused me any offence, they shook hands and\nhurried off, and were soon deeply absorbed in the industry of trying\nto see how much they could persuade the globe-trotter to give for\ntheir wares. But their trade is not so good as it was some years back.\nThe traveller is more wide-awake, and his inclination now is to err\non the side of paying too little. Some shipping lines have also\nforbidden traders to board the ships, because it gave an opportunity\nfor thieves to get on board under the guise of traders, and a good\nmany things had been stolen from passengers in this way.\n\nLanding in Bombay from the same ship, an Australian lady said to me,\nas the passengers were waiting on the Bunder while the luggage was\npassing through the Customs, \"What is this strange smell?\" \"It is only\nthe smell of India,\" I replied. \"Then I don't like it,\" she said very\ndecidedly. There is in India a peculiar stale smell which you seldom\nget entirely away from, unless on some lofty hills far removed from\nthe haunts of men. It is the smell of an undrained country, where the\nhabits of the people transgress the most elementary sanitary rules, so\nthat even out in country districts, if there are human habitations in\nthe neighbourhood, the air is tainted.\n\nWhereas it is the English custom to receive a new-comer into office\nwith great ceremony, the Indian reserves his enthusiasm for the time\nof departure. The new viceroy is welcomed with much state ceremonial,\nbut he departs in comparatively homely fashion. If the arrangements\nwere in the hands of Indians, it is the outgoing viceroy who would\nreceive the chief honours. After all, this may be the right way. The\nnew-comer has not yet been tried, whereas if he has done his duty\nduring his time of office, it is at the point of his departure that\ndisplay of gratitude is becoming. If the head of a mission has to go\nto England on furlough, the residents at the mission-station will\nprobably give him a tremendous send-off, even if he is not\nparticularly popular. But when he returns, the Indians who saw him off\nso enthusiastically will receive him back with gracious smiles and\nkindly greeting, and half a dozen special friends may call and garland\nhim, but there will be no general demonstration, unless there are some\nEnglish people on the spot to suggest it as being the proper thing to\ndo.\n\nMistakes made in the effort to speak a difficult Eastern language are\ninevitable. But the new-comer is not aware of certain subtle dangers\nwhich exist, quite apart from mispronunciation, or wrong tenses and\ngenders, or words misapplied. To use the singular number instead of\nthe plural in speaking to an Indian, except of the lowest rank, is\nconsidered by him as an act of great rudeness. In speaking to children\nthe singular number is always used, and very intimate friends use it\nin speaking to each other. High-caste Hindus use it in speaking to\nlow-caste people, in order to emphasise their own superior position.\nMissionaries generally begin to exercise their conversational powers\nin the vernacular by trying to say a few words to the boys of the\nmission. And as their efforts are generally welcomed by the boys in a\nkindly and encouraging spirit, the missionary waxes bold and begins to\nconverse with the elder members of his flock, or even with dignified\noutsiders, with sometimes unfortunate results, because he uses\nunblushingly, but unknowingly, the singular number which he grew\nfamiliar with in his conversations with the boys.\n\n\"Where art thou going?\" I said to one of the senior members of the\ncongregation--proud to be able to address him in Marathi. \"You speak\nlike a Brahmin,\" was his reply. At the time I took this to be fulsome\npraise of my pronunciation, and it was not till long afterwards, as I\nrecalled his words, that I understood that he meant that I was\naddressing him in the contemptuous way in which Brahmins speak to\ntheir inferiors. A lady worker, after struggling bravely with the\nintricacies of Marathi, said that at last she felt encouraged when,\nafter conversing with some Indian women, she heard one of them say,\n\"She speaks like a Hindu.\" Fortunately, or unfortunately, she did not\nunderstand the real meaning of the remark.\n\nIndians do not readily understand or appreciate the half-jocose way in\nwhich Englishmen are wont to show friendliness to others. I saw at a\nrailway station some rather venerable Christians from a village\nmission seeing off a young missionary. The new-comer was trying to be\n\"hail-fellow-well-met\" with these members of his congregation,\nsmacking them on the back and laughing a good deal, and calling them\n\"old chaps.\" The latter expression they did not understand, but they\nlooked grave and puzzled; and probably the newly arrived missionary\nlearnt, after a little longer experience, that all English manners and\ncustoms are not applicable to India.\n\nThe reverse is also true. There is an Indian kind of free-and-easy\nmanner which is meant to indicate a spirit of friendliness, which is\njust as little understood by the Englishman, and which he not\nunfrequently imagines to be intentional rudeness, and resents\naccordingly.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLIV\n\nNIGHT ALARMS IN INDIA\n\n     Mortality caused by snake-bite. Snakes in the bungalow. The\n     cobra; how it shows fight. An exciting contest. The\n     night-watchman; his jingling-stick; his slumber. Village\n     night-scare. Supposed dacoits. The village _chowdi_: lads\n     sleeping in it.\n\n\nIt must be confessed that snakes are one of the drawbacks of country\nlife in India, especially after dark. That they are not an imaginary\nsource of danger is shown by the tremendous total in the annual\nreturns of those killed by snakes in British India. Every year this\namounts to about 20,000 people. The returns for the last ten years\nshow that, in spite of the attempt to wage war against snakes, the\ntoll of casualties does not diminish. The number of snakes killed in a\nrecent year, for which Government gave rewards, amounted to 63,719.\nBut in so vast a country the destruction even of so many would make\nlittle appreciable difference.\n\nAlthough the cobra is an object of worship, Indians do not become\nreconciled to snakes. The cry of _sarp_--\"snake\"--makes almost as\ngreat excitement as the cry of \"fire.\" You never can be sure where\nyou may not find a snake. Once when I was coming home in the dark,\nthere was just light enough to enable me to see a snake travelling up\nthe steps of the verandah into the bungalow, and I was in time to kill\nit before it hid up. The most uncomfortable situation is when you see\na snake go into the house and you cannot find out where he has located\nhimself. A _krait_, the most deadly snake in India, in the middle of\nthe day came in at the door of the room in which I was sitting\nreading. It seemed surprised to see me, and retired behind the door,\nwhere I quickly slew him. It was remarkable to see the horror of a\ncat, who came in just afterwards and saw the dead body of the snake,\nand for a week or two afterwards she would not pass through that room.\nAs we entered the refectory one evening for dinner we saw a large\nsnake vanish out of the back door, and we found it curled up behind\nthe water-butt.\n\nIt is impossible to get reliable local information as to which of the\nsnakes are poisonous or not. If you ask an Indian about the character\nof any snake he always answers, \"Very bad.\" But it is the cobra which\nis really an unpleasant creature to have any dealings with. Most other\nsnakes will try and slink into a corner, or hide up. But the cobra, if\ncornered, shows fight and becomes formidable. He raises himself up a\nfoot or two, puffs out his mantle, sways his head about as if he was\ntaking aim, and strikes with great force to some distance, according\nto his size. I do not know if there are any instances recorded of\nrecovery from the bite of a cobra, but if so, they are exceedingly\nrare.\n\nEarly one morning we found a cobra in a sleepy state, just outside one\nof the church doors. By his swollen condition it was evident that he\nwas digesting his last meal. It was easy to despatch him with a long\nbamboo, which we keep for cobras. But at the first blow he had still\nenergy just to raise his head into the fighting attitude, when he\nlooks most forbidding. We found inside him a frog, dead but otherwise\nin good preservation, which accounted for his distended and sleepy\nstate. One day, just after Evensong, when the people were coming out\nof church, one of the boys heard a hiss, and saw a cobra in the angle\nof a buttress. The long bamboo was again equal to the occasion.\n\nThe village schoolmaster, returning in the dark with his family after\na day's holiday, heard a hiss as he opened his house door, and he saw\na snake glide down the verandah. But it was too dark to see whether it\nwent away, or whether it went into one of the other rooms. The process\nof investigation was rather an embarrassing one. The door of the next\nroom was so situated that a view of the interior could not be got\nwithout going inside, and the snake might have hidden behind the door.\nAfter making loud demonstrations in the doorway with the bamboo, I\nventured in cautiously, and by the light of a lantern which the master\nheld, we saw at the further end of the room under a cot a large\ncobra, with its head raised and slowly waving about, according to its\nuncanny custom. As it was probable that it would make for the door if\nattacked, because there was no other exit, I at once pinned it against\nthe wall with the long bamboo. A fierce contest raged for a few\nmoments. The cobra flung itself hither and thither, and getting free,\nendeavoured to come down the room towards the door. Some sage advisers\nsay, \"Hit a snake on the tail and he will die.\" But when it is\ntwisting about with marvellous rapidity and tying itself into\nfantastic knots, there is no time to consider where to hit it. No time\nis to be lost, and you must hit it wherever you can. I did so with the\ncobra, who presently began to show signs of collapse, and I was able\nto batter its head and the danger was over. We were grateful that the\nadventure ended so favourably. We hung up the corpse on a thorn hedge\nnear by, as a warning to his tribe. But a snake is a dainty morsel to\nmany creatures, and by the morning it was gone.\n\nIndians walking noiselessly with bare feet run a special risk,\nespecially at night when snakes are on the move. But in spite of the\nnumber in the Yerandawana neighbourhood, I have never known a case of\nsnake-bite. They invariably try to get out of the way when they hear\nanybody coming. The night-watchmen, who form part of the complicated\nestablishment of most bungalows in India as a supposed safeguard\nagainst thieves, often have bits of jingling iron fastened on to the\nend of the stick which they always carry. The typical night-watchman\nat any rate once in the course of the night makes his noisy round of\nthe compound, striking his stick on the ground, partly in order to\nfrighten away snakes by the rattling of the iron, and partly to assure\nhis employer of his alertness. It takes a little time before you learn\nto accept this as only one amongst the many other noises of the Indian\nnight, and not to be taken any notice of. If you feel any compunction\nat resting comfortably in bed while the watchman is abroad, you will\nbe relieved if you chance to come out at any other hour except that at\nwhich he is accustomed to take his little round. You are almost sure\nto find him sleeping peacefully and soundly in the verandah. Possibly\nin former days, when night alarms were more frequent and thieves more\naggressive than they are now, the watchman was more on the alert.\n\nOne night some of the villagers came to ask me to come down into the\nvillage and help them in a difficulty. It appeared that for the last\nthree or four nights they had been alarmed by stones being slung into\nthe place from a distance. They fell with considerable force, and if\nthey had struck anyone he would have been seriously injured. As I drew\nnear one or two stones fell on the roofs of some of the houses, making\na great clatter. Some people said that four men had been seen hanging\nabout, wearing trousers and boots and big turbans; but many tales were\nafloat, and none of them very authentic. The theory was that these\nmen were dacoits attempting to terrorise the place, preparatory to\nattack and plunder. Though this kind of brigandage still survives, it\nis no longer common, especially in the neighbourhood of Poona, with\nits large police force. My own impression was that some larky young\nfellows from the next village, which was noted for its rowdiness, were\ntrying to create a scare for the sake of a joke.\n\nWe paraded the outskirts of the place, accompanied by some of the more\nvaliant spirits, who were armed with long bamboos. They loudly\nchallenged everybody that they met, and were relieved when the answer\nwas equivalent to \"a friend.\" Finally we all assembled in the centre\nof the village in what, in an English town, would have been the\nmarket-place, opposite to the town-hall. In our case the square was\nvery small, hemmed in by houses, according to the crowded arrangement\npeculiar to most Indian villages. The town-hall was a low shed, in\nwhich, in spite of its homely appearance, all the public ceremonies,\ngreat or small, take place. It is also the custom in villages, amongst\nthe Hindu population, for the young unmarried men and boys to sleep in\nthis central _chowdi_, as it is called, which is often fairly\nspacious. The dwelling-houses are thus left free for their parents and\nsisters. General morality is enforced by the village elders, except as\nregards conversation, and concerning that there is unbridled license.\nThe little market-place was crowded with those brave ones who had\nperambulated with us, and the timid ones who had remained inside. In\nfact, all the men and big boys of the village were there. Everyone had\na weapon of some sort. A council of war was held. I suggested that\nsuch an assembly of stalwart fellows was a match for any number of\nthieves. But they said that men of the dacoit class were armed with\nlong knives, with which they would slash your legs as soon as look at\nyou. I replied that with their long bamboos, rightly used, they need\nnot fear knives. Someone said that a gun was what was wanted, and\nasked if I had not got one. I answered that a priest was a man of\npeace, and had no need of guns. Another said, would I write and ask\nfor police protection? I reminded them of the resentment they had\nshown on a previous occasion when they thought I had been responsible\nfor bringing police into the place.\n\nAt this juncture the clattering of more stones upon some of the\nadjoining roofs sent the few women, who had crept out to listen to our\ntalk, shrieking into their houses, while I and a rather increased band\nof braves again explored in the direction from which the stones had\ncome. We met two or three young fellows belonging to the large colony\nof medicine-men who live in Yerandawana, but who do not mix much with\nthe other villagers. They are a roving, easygoing race, fond of\nhunting and drinking, and with a largely developed element of mischief\nand fun. I felt a strong suspicion that these young men, who I\nthought seemed a little embarrassed at meeting me, could throw light\non the mystery. Anyhow the stir of that night had the effect of\nfrightening whoever were the authors of the scare, and there was no\nrepetition of the annoyance.\n\nThe Patel, who as head man of the village ought to have been to the\nfront in a time of difficulty, was so alarmed at the situation that he\nmade tracks for Poona, and did not return until he was assured that\npeace had been restored.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLV\n\nTHE INDIAN WASHERMAN\n\n     The _dhobi_, or washerman. The Christian _dhobi_.\n     Laundry-work for mission boys; failure of the enterprise.\n     How the _dhobi_ does his work; beating the clothes on a\n     stone. Relaxations of the _dhobi_; his difficulties in the\n     rains; his standard of honesty; he learns his trade in\n     childhood; his bullock. Bells on cattle, useful at night;\n     melody of the bells. An obstinate bullock a perplexity.\n     Motor-cars and bullocks.\n\n\nIndia is a country in which the washing of clothes is carried out to\nperfection, so far as the cleansing and bleaching of the garments is\nconcerned. But it must be confessed that this desirable result is\nattained at much cost to the garments themselves. The profession of\nwasherman, or _dhobi_ as he is called, like most other occupations in\nIndia, is chiefly an hereditary one. It is very difficult for anyone\noutside the _dhobi_ caste to get a footing in the profession. Washing\nis done in the open air in a stream or river, or on the edge of a\ntank, or _howd_. These washing-places are so jealously guarded by the\n_dhobis_ that an intruder on their sacred preserves has no chance. At\none time it was hoped that _dhobi_ work might prove a useful\noccupation for those boys of the Mission who do not shape into\ncarpenters. All the Mission washing would provide a good means of\nlivelihood for several lads. And in India it is men who run the\nlaundry. Their womenkind help, but in almost every case it is the man\nwho is the responsible person.\n\nThere was at one time a Christian _dhobi_ in the Mission. He was a\nconvert from Hinduism, and some people were uncharitable enough to\nsuggest that the secret of his conversion was to be found in his hope\nthat it would secure to him the Mission washing in perpetuity. But,\nhowever this may have been, he managed to retain his rights as a\n_dhobi_ after his baptism, and took his station at the usual\nwashing-place without difficulty. Increasing age and his need of\nassistance first suggested the idea that he might teach his craft to\nsome of the Mission boys. The attempt was beset with many\ndifficulties. The members of the _dhobi_ caste had tolerated the old\nconvert, but when they found that he was taking Christian boys as his\npupils they were up in arms, and put every possible difficulty in\ntheir way. A Hindu _dhobi_, who was already doing some of the Mission\nwashing, professed to be independent of the prejudices of his fellows,\nand volunteered to protect the boys, and to instruct them in the\nmysteries of his trade. He persevered gallantly for a while, but the\nresentment of his fellows was eventually too much for him. They even\nput him out of caste, and that is a punishment which no Hindu can\nendure.\n\nSo, rather apologetically, because he had been bold in his\nprotestations of his disregard of public opinion, he told us that he\nwould not be able to continue to instruct our boys. They tried to\ncarry on the work on their own account, and though exposed to a good\ndeal of petty persecution from the Hindu _dhobis_, they managed to\nassert their right to wash clothes in the stream. But they had not\nbeen under instruction long enough to really learn the art, and\nwithout any competent person to take the lead, their efforts soon\nbecame so unsatisfactory that the industry had to be unwillingly\nabandoned.\n\nThe Indian _dhobi_ always, by preference, washes clothes in a stream\nof running water where such is to be had. Some municipalities, where\nthere is an adequate water-supply at their disposal, have made\nartificial arrangements of this nature, with water running from taps\ninto small tanks where the _dhobis_ stand and wash. But they much\nprefer the river. Many of the Indian rivers for a large part of the\nyear provide just the conditions which the _dhobi_ loves. The water is\ngenerally reduced to a modest stream, running amongst rocks and\nstones, with deep pools here and there, and long stretches of dry sand\nor gravel, or even green grass, on which the clothes can be spread to\nbleach. The _dhobi_ stands in the stream and rinses the linen in the\nrunning water, sometimes using a little soap. But his real agent for\ncleansing consists of large smooth stones belonging to the river-bed,\nwhich lie handy or which he has fished out, and on these he dashes the\nwet garments.\n\nAs I write [at Khandala] I hear the _dhobi_ in the stream just below,\nbusy with repeated flagellations which resound loudly. As I saw him\ntake up a pair of pyjamas I watched the whole process carefully. He\nrinsed them for a short time in the stream. He then kneaded them\nslightly on the stone and rinsed them again. Then doubling the\ngarments into a long roll which he held by one end, he raised it high\nabove his head and dashed it with all his strength on the stone about\neighteen times. When the water had been beaten out he again dipped the\nroll into the stream and resumed his flagellations. He repeated this\nprocess six times, so that by the time he had finished and the pyjamas\nwere added to the pile of washed clothes, they had been beaten on the\nstone more than a hundred times. The process effectually expels all\nthe dirt, but the amount of literal wear and tear to which the garment\nis exposed can easily be imagined. Mother-of-pearl shirt-buttons fare\nbadly under this treatment, and for this reason are not much used in\nIndia.\n\nThe scorching sun is another purifying element. Under its bleaching\ninfluence the well-washed garments become white as snow, and have that\nrefreshing fragrance of complete cleanliness which an Indian resident\nmisses when at home and he has to receive his washing from an English\nlaundry.\n\nThe ordinary Indian _dhobis_ only iron the clothes by smoothing them\nover with their hands, but the more accomplished artists use large and\nheavy box-irons, which are heated by filling the box with hot ashes.\nThe _dhobis_ who are experienced in getting up linen for English\nresidents do so with great skill, and accomplish successfully the most\nelaborate tasks. Washing is very cheap, like most things in India\nwhich depend on labour. The usual custom is to pay so much a month,\nfor which sum you may send to the wash as many articles as you like.\nIn Poona City Rs. 2 is the usual monthly payment--that is to say, 2s.\n8d. in English money,--but Indians who employ a _dhobi_ pay much less.\n\nIt will be seen that laundry work done in Indian fashion is very\nlaborious; but the _dhobis_ are a cheerful race, and many of them make\na good deal of money. Their chief relaxation seems to be an occasional\nsocial evening, which extends till the next morning. Liquor flows\nfreely on these occasions, and as the evening progresses the uproar\nincreases, and before the party finally breaks up a war of many words\ngenerally ends in some, or all of the guests, having a free fight,\nwhich, however, is generally without bloodshed and does not apparently\nhinder the resumption of friendly relationships the next day.\n\nThe _dhobi's_ time of trial is the rainy season, when he pursues his\ntrade under great difficulties. The modest stream of clear water, so\nwell suited to his purpose, has developed into a rolling river of\nmuddy water. His smooth stones, his gravelly shoals, the banks of\ngreen grass, are now buried deep in a foaming torrent. The air is\nladen with moisture, and violent rain falls repeatedly. He lives in a\nmiserable hut, with none of the appliances which we are accustomed to\nsee in laundries. His artificial means for drying clothes are of the\nmost primitive character, and his customers are clamouring for their\ngarments, and abusing him because he is behindhand.\n\nIn a country where integrity in matters of trade is rare, it is not to\nbe expected that the _dhobi's_ standard of honesty will be higher than\nthat of other people, and the nature of his employment gives\nfacilities for petty dishonesty: such as exchanging old handkerchiefs\nfor new, or not bringing back the same number of garments as he took\naway. But even when his intentions are good, it makes it the more\ndifficult to return the washing correctly that the English markings on\nthe clothes are to him only so many cabalistic signs, merely to be\nrecognised by their general appearance. And as the _dhobi_ often finds\nhimself misled in his attempt to follow this uncertain guide, he\nadopts signs of his own for his regular customers, and with coloured\nthread, or even ink, makes marks on the clothes intelligible to\nhimself, and not always conducive to the appearance of the garment.\n\nFrom a merely utilitarian point of view there are some advantages in\nthe fact that certain trades are practically confined to the members\nof certain castes. A _dhobi_, for instance, does not expect or aspire\nto be anything different. Hence he begins to learn his craft almost\nfrom infancy. Again, as I write, I can see in the stream below a busy\nfamily of three generations of _dhobis_. The grandfather is\ngrey-haired, and though taking a good share of the work is obviously\ngetting into old age, although probably not much over fifty. But for\nmost Indians that means old age. His son is a hale man in the prime of\nlife. Two or three women, the wives of one or other, or of each, are\nassisting. But there is a little grandson about three or four years\nold. He still walks rather unsteadily on bowed legs. He is already\nabsorbed in learning the mysteries of his ancestral trade. He is given\na pair of stockings to wash, and, small as he is, he copies exactly\nthe actions of his parents. He rinses the stocking in the water, beats\nit on the stone so far as his limited supply of strength will allow,\nrinses it again, beats it again, and finally casts it on one side when\nthe process is complete, as he sees his father do. He is almost a\nfull-fledged _dhobi_ as soon as he has learned to talk and walk. Not\nbeing very great at the latter accomplishment, he rides home on the\nbullock, which is a necessary part of the stock and trade of every\nprosperous _dhobi_. The bullock carries the clothes, which are formed\ninto a sort of huge bolster, which, when put on the back of the\nbullock, nearly touches the ground on either side.\n\nBullocks almost invariably have a bell hung round their necks. When\ncattle are out grazing the bell is useful, because it serves to\nindicate their whereabouts when they have strayed. They also follow\nmore or less the sound of one anothers' bells, so that they tend to\nkeep a flock or herd together. The bells on the bullocks which are\nemployed in road traffic have a practical use, because, when\ntravelling by night, the proximity of a bullock-cart is often first\nindicated in the dark by the tinkling of the bells. These are often\ntwo or three inches in diameter, and in the comparative stillness of\nnight can be heard at some distance. When a string of a dozen or more\nbullock-carts follow each other in close succession the jingling of\nthe bells rings out cheerfully. In fact, an additional reason why\npeople like to have bells on their bullocks is that the Hindu is\nmostly timid at night, and the sound of the bells is a kind of\ncompanionship, and may do something towards warning off evil spirits.\n\nWhen a number of bells are tinkling at the same time they are\nnaturally not always in tune with one another, and discordant\ncombinations may result, especially when the bells of two bullocks\nyoked together are much out of tune. But if you listen critically to\neach bell, when a row of carts is passing, you will every now and then\nhear one of a peculiarly rich and mellow sound. I once tried to\npersuade a man to sell a melodious bell which I heard by chance as he\ndrove by, but he would not entertain the idea for a moment. Perhaps he\nthought that it would be unlucky to part with it.\n\nThat the bullocks themselves get to look upon the bell as a necessary\naccompaniment to work, has been often noticed. An Englishman\ntravelling by night in a bullock-cart found that the ceaseless\njingling of the bells kept him awake, and he ordered them to be\nremoved. But when the sound ceased the beasts took it as an indication\nthat work was over, and promptly lay down, and no further progress was\nmade till the bells had been restored. An Indian bullock is for the\nmost part a docile and long-suffering creature. But he makes up for\nhis usual good behaviour when he happens to get annoyed. He is not\nunlike his Indian master in this respect. If a bullock lies down and\nrefuses to do his work, no amount of persuasion will induce him to\nchange his mind. Natives even go so far as to light straw under him\nwhen all other efforts to make him budge fail. More often, when blows\nand energetic tail-twistings have no effect on him, the beast has to\nbe humoured in some way. His mind is often restored to its normal\nequilibrium by inducing him to change places with his yoke-fellow, or\nwith a bullock in another cart.\n\nThe eventualities of road traffic do not usually disturb the placidity\nof the bullock, but if he once gets frightened and loses his head, he\ngives way to unmitigated panic. The first appearance of the motor-car,\nwhich is now almost as common in parts of India as it is in England,\nreduced many bullocks to a state of abject terror. Fortunately most\nmishaps with bullock-carts are not very serious in their results. The\ncart is not easily broken, and is quickly righted. But having occasion\nto travel in a public motor-car through a country district where the\ncar was then a novelty, it was alarming to see the state of chaos\nwhich we were constantly leaving in our rear. The theory of the driver\nof the car was that, if bullocks are frightened, the best course is to\ndash past quickly and get it over. The result was not altogether a\nsuccess. The fact that a horrible monster had sped by was sufficient\nto produce panic, and the first impulse of the bullock was to rush off\nthe road to some place of safety. In India it is easy to go off the\ntrack at any point, because there is often neither wall nor hedge, and\nthe surrounding country may be uneven and intersected with beds of\nstreams and deep hollows.\n\nIn the course of our journey I saw a bullock-cart swerve off the road\nand fall bottom upwards into a field on a much lower level. Anyone\nunfamiliar with bullock-cart accidents would expect much more\ndisastrous results from such a mishap than was probably actually the\ncase; but I saw the tragedy when we were already far ahead, and our\ndriver of course never saw it at all. Consternation was excited in the\ntraffic ahead of us by the hoot of the car. Drivers, who had already\nexperienced the effect of a motor-car on their beasts, leapt from\ntheir cart, and hastily urging the bullocks to the side of the road,\nstood in front of them and blind-folded their eyes with their garments\nso that they might not see the apparition tearing by. After a little\nfamiliarity with motors, the philosophic Indian bullock soon gets to\nregard them with supreme indifference.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLVI\n\nAGRICULTURE IN INDIA\n\n     Agricultural colleges. Indian soil exhausted; need of\n     chemical manures. Signs of progress among farmers. The city\n     sweepings. Sugar cane; hospitalities connected with it; we\n     are invited; our reception; the juice from the cane; its\n     produce in other forms. Potatoes. The Indian evening; its\n     rapid approach. Return of the cattle.\n\n\nThe Government of India are spending large sums on agricultural\nresearch. They have a College of Agriculture on an extensive scale at\nPusa, in Bengal, and another big college near Poona has just been\ncompleted. These handsome buildings, with their chemical laboratories,\nlecture rooms, and English professors, seem at the first glance\nstrangely remote from the homely farmer in his native village, and the\nfirst inclination is to suggest that these colleges will only produce\na crop of ornamental figure-heads, who will graduate in agriculture,\nbut who will make no practical use of the knowledge which they have\nacquired.\n\nBut the aim of these colleges is not quite so visionary as one might\nthink. The Government realises that it will be long before the\ninfluence of the college reaches the small farmer in his village. The\nreal point is that the soil of India is worn out through continued\ncropping without manuring, and it now only yields a small percentage\nof what it might produce, if properly treated. Farmyard manure, such\nas the English farmer so largely depends upon for the enrichment of\nhis land, does not exist in India. This is partly because the cattle\nare roaming about all day, and as a rule are only gathered into sheds\nat night; partly because the coarse stalks of the native kinds of\ngrain are not suitable for stable litter like English straw; but\nchiefly because the droppings from the cattle are made up into flat\ncakes and dried in the sun, which are then used as fuel in conjunction\nwith a certain amount of wood. This custom is so rooted that it would\nbe hopeless to try and modify it. Nor indeed is there any other fuel\navailable. It is long before coal will find its way into common use\nfor cooking purposes.\n\nThe moral of this is, that the only solution of the problem is to be\nfound in the introduction of chemical manure. But this can only be\ndone effectually after prolonged experiments. In a country so vast and\nso varied as India the varieties of soil are great, and the climatic\nconditions manifold. All sorts of different crops are grown. Hence the\nexperiments necessary to find out how this variety is to be\nsuccessfully treated must be spread over a long period of time, and\nresults can only be arrived at gradually. Even in the process of\nirrigation, which at one time appeared to be such a simple matter,\nbecause where an ample supply of water could be secured the genial sun\nseemed to do all the rest, the lapse of years is revealing the fact\nthat repeated irrigation produces certain deleterious chemical changes\nin the soil, which might ultimately become disastrous to the\nproduction of the crop. Hence experiments have to be made to determine\nto what extent irrigation must be restricted, and how the adverse\nchemical conditions can be counteracted.\n\nWhen facts have been ascertained, their dissemination and acceptance\nis another problem. To accomplish this a good deal of the pioneer\nwork, as with most progressive steps in India, must be done by\nEnglishmen. Indians, however well instructed, would not be listened to\nin the first instance with confidence by their fellow-countrymen. They\nwould suspect that self-interest was at the back of their advice, and\nthe chemical manure which they recommended would, on that account, be\ndistrusted. Hence, at present, a good many of the lecturers, and even\nsome of the inspectors who are to travel in the districts to advise\nand assist the farmers in agricultural matters, have to be Englishmen.\nBut it is hoped that their places will gradually be taken by those\nIndians whom they are now instructing.\n\nAlthough farmers all the world over are conservative and opposed to\nnovelties, they generally end by adopting improvements when they have\nrealised that they are remunerative. Yerandawana village being close\nto Poona City, the farmers can procure for their land the street\nsweepings, which are sold by the municipality at so much a load. The\nfarmers see the difference between land which has been manured and\nthat which has not. They spend, what is to them, large sums of money\non this litter, and they do so readily because they find that they are\nabundantly repaid by the increase in their crops. Street sweepings and\ncity litter can, of course, only be procured in the immediate vicinity\nof large towns, and it is limited in quantity, so that this kind of\nmanure does not go far in enriching the impoverished Indian soil. If\nfarmers are able to see that chemical manure produces the same result\nas the litter, it is reasonable to suppose that in process of time\nthey would be equally ready to buy the new agent.\n\nSugar cane is undoubtedly the most beautiful in appearance of all\nIndian crops; and when the cane is being converted into raw sugar,\nthis is one of the most animated rural sights. The process takes place\nin the open air in a corner of the field itself, or else close by.\nAlthough it involves plenty of work and all is stir and bustle, it is\na time which the workers enjoy. They encamp on the spot, and it is a\nsort of prolonged picnic.[3]\n\n[Footnote 3: The process has been fully described in _Indian\nJottings_, p. 253.]\n\nIt is a pleasant custom amongst the sugar-cane growers to invite\nlittle parties of friends to come to the plantation to drink the\nfresh juice, and other uninvited guests are apt to stroll round in the\nhope of getting something. The code of hospitality amongst Indians\nbeing such a liberal one, even the palpable cadgers are not sent away\nempty. Apparently every visitor to any garden must be made to take\naway some tangible memento of his visit, if it be only a single\nflower.\n\nOne of the leading farmers in Yerandawana was, from the first, very\nadverse to the intrusion of the Mission into the village. He did not\nopenly oppose, but when at intervals the villagers got suspicious and\ncooled off in their friendly advances, it was known that it was\nlargely due to the influence of this Hindu. But time gradually does\nits beneficent work of pacification, and there came indications of\nfriendly advances on the part of Bulwantrao himself. Finally his\neldest son called one afternoon and asked two of us to go that evening\nto his sugar-cane plantation, so that he might entertain us, and he\nsaid that eight of the Mission boys might come with us.\n\nWe gladly accepted the invitation, and went to the appointed place at\nsunset. The pleasant scent as we drew near was reminiscent of\njam-making in old days at home, and the process was somewhat similar.\nBulwantrao's son, Rama, a coarse-featured lad with a raucous voice,\nwelcomed us heartily. The Indian father usually drops into the\nbackground if his all-important eldest son is present, and lets him do\nthe honours even when he is quite a boy. This is a pleasing feature\nof Indian family life, and the father evidently feels great pleasure\nin seeing his son and heir exercising the privileges of his position.\n\nA brown country blanket was spread for us to sit upon, and Rama gave\norders concerning us. One of his men brought some of the raw sugar in\na brass bowl, just after it had cooled and consolidated. Presumably\nthis bowl was dedicated to the use of unclean persons like ourselves,\notherwise our touching it would have made it useless for their own\npurposes; except that there are now so many exceptions to the old\nrules of greater strictness, that perhaps the usual polish with earth\nmight be considered a sufficient purification. It was a pleasure to\neat sugar which one knew for certain was free from all taint of\nadulteration. Meanwhile several lads and boys had harnessed themselves\nto the mill which presses out the juice of the sugar cane, in place of\nthe bullocks who had gone off duty, and with great energy and much fun\nand laughter, made it revolve until enough juice had been pressed out\nfor our refreshment. The sugar cane, looking and feeling like a thick\nbamboo walking-stick, does not suggest itself as an object from which\njuice could be extracted, but it pours out in streams as soon as the\nstalk comes between the rollers of the mill.\n\nA lemon was squeezed into the bowl of juice, which we were told\ngreatly improves its flavour, and then we had a most refreshing\ndrink. It was sweet and cool, but not sickly. There are places in\nPoona City where this drink can be obtained in its season for a\nfarthing a glass, special crushing-mills being erected for the\npurpose. It is essential that the juice should be freshly procured,\nbecause if left to stand it quickly ferments, and it is then very\nintoxicating. We were next given some of the syrup out of the big pan\nwhich had just been taken off the fire. When poured into the moulds\nprepared for the purpose it consolidates as it cools. But it was\nrather like toffee at the stage when they put a lump of it into the\npalms of our hands, and as it was extremely sticky, it was a difficult\nmatter getting rid of the after-effects; those who habitually use\ntheir fingers for all purposes appear to acquire the knack of doing so\nwithout getting their fingers into a mess.\n\nFinally we were all provided with long sticks of the cane to take home\nwith us, and this was the part of the entertainment which the boys\nvalued most. But as teeth have to do the work of the crushing-mill, it\nwas only the younger members of the party who were able to make\npersonal use of the parting gift. We were also invited to look at\nBulwantrao's gardens, and though the tidiness which distinguishes a\ncared-for English garden was missing, they were highly cultivated and\ncontained a varied assortment. People of one country do not take\nreadily to the natural productions of another country, especially\ntheir vegetables, but potatoes have become popular in India, in spite\nof their being small and tasteless. They are sold in all the native\nbazaars, and the poorer people buy them largely. Bulwantrao's garden\nwas an illustration of what may be accomplished by intelligent\ncultivation under the influence of the heat of the tropics, combined\nwith irrigation and manure. We were of course given specimens of such\nfruit and vegetables as were in season.\n\nDarkness was rapidly taking the place of sunshine as we returned from\nthis pleasant visit. There is a special charm about evening-tide in\nall parts of the world, and India is no exception; although evening in\nthat country is peculiar and distinctive, and has the drawback that\nthe twilight of the tropics is so brief. You are reading a book with\nease, and ten minutes afterwards you can scarcely distinguish a\nletter. The sudden fall of night resembles the gloom produced by the\nrapid gathering of clouds before a thunderstorm in England, and gives\nfor the moment a certain sense of sadness. In the last half-hour\nbefore sunset you see people hurrying along the roads and the many\nfootpaths which intersect each other all over India, in order to get\nhome before dark. The cattle which have been feeding all day on the\nhills and jungle lands come straggling home, and they respond slowly\nto the call for hurry, urged upon them forcibly by their young\nattendants. If you happen to be in one of the narrow gullies of a\nvillage just at the time when the cattle are coming home, the position\nis an embarrassing one. There is scarcely room for them to pass, and\nthey eye a stranger with suspicion. They turn in at their respective\ndoorways as if they were the owners, and there is not much distinction\nbetween the quarters allotted to them and the dwelling-place of the\nfamily.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLVII\n\nEAST AND WEST ON BOARD SHIP\n\n     Christians and Hindu customs. The carpentry instructor; A\n     taint of Hinduism; he retains his pigtail. Indians on their\n     way to Europe; perplexities about bath and food. The Jain\n     sect; their views. The Sikhs. Going to Germany for Sanskrit.\n     Conversation of English-speaking Hindus. Indians on deck.\n     East and West pull together. No room for the theosophist.\n\n\nSome missionaries advocate the retention by Christian converts of such\nHindu customs as are not directly connected with idolatry, especially\nin connection with marriage ceremonies. Others maintain that it is\nimpossible really to distinguish between what is innocent and what is\nnot, and that the only safe course is to come out altogether and be\nseparate. The elaborate restrictions concerning food, given to the\nchildren of Israel, were apparently chiefly designed to prevent them\nfrom mixing socially with the idolatrous people with whom they were\nsurrounded, lest they should drop back into any of the old evil ways.\nFor the same reason it would seem necessary in India for the Christian\nconvert to separate himself from everything which is in any way\ndistinctive of Hinduism, quite apart from whether the thing itself is\nharmful or not. It is certain that lapses back to Hinduism have been\nmost frequent amongst Christians of those Missions where the laxer\nview has prevailed.\n\nAn illustration somewhat to the point may be found in the case of the\ncarpentry instructor in the Poona City Mission, who was a convert from\nHinduism. He received the name of Bhumya at his baptism--his full name\nbeing Bhumya Virappa Chondikar. The second name was that of his\nfather, which, according to Hindu custom, is always borne by the son,\nand the last was his family or surname. He did not improve his\nfinancial status by becoming a Christian. He was carpenter-master\nbefore, and continued to be so for many years afterwards. But his\nchange of religion cut him off from any possibility of inheritance\nfrom Hindu relations, of whom he had several in rather prosperous\ncircumstances. It also made such a ferment in his own household, where\nhe had a wife and mother-in-law and little son, that he had to leave\nhis home and lodge elsewhere so that he might not \"pollute\" them, as\nthey would express it, by eating with them. Two years after his own\nbaptism, however, he had the joy of seeing his wife and now _two_\nlittle children, baptized, and the home life was happily resumed.\nEventually even his mother-in-law became a Christian.\n\nBut in spite of his own undoubted earnestness, his devout use of the\nsacraments, his constant attendance at all the services of the church,\na sort of taint of Hinduism clung to him all through life and to some\nextent dimmed his Christian joy, and prevented his example, in many\nways so edifying, from bearing the fruit that might otherwise have\nbeen the case. None of his numerous Hindu friends were led to\nChristianity through his influence, and none of his own relations\nfollowed his example, nor was it possible to use him much in\nevangelistic work, in spite of his readiness to help. He had a theory\nthat Christianity had somehow been evolved out of Hinduism, and though\neven his intimate friends could never get to the bottom of his strange\nideas, his preaching was sufficiently unorthodox to make it necessary\nthat he should be a silent member of the preaching party in the\nstreets of the city.\n\nThe retention of Hindu ideas which thus warped his Christian life, and\nprevented it from influencing his fellow-countrymen as it otherwise\nmight have done, may partly be accounted for by the fact that he not\nonly retained in every particular after his baptism the outward garb\nof a Hindu and wore no Christian symbol, but his partially shaved\nhead, and rather long pigtail which he continued to wear, were so\ndefinitely the outward tokens of Hinduism that he was often taken for\na Hindu, and several people at various times were startled to see a\nheathen man, as they thought, collecting the alms in church.\n\nThe chief moral value of Bhumya's life is to be found in the fact\nthat, in spite of Hindu memories continuing to have some mysterious\nattraction for him, he was both in life and death unswerving and\nunshaken in his allegiance to Christianity.\n\nCertainly a P. & O. steamer can no longer be described as a \"white\nman's ship,\" as the young officer expressed it when he complained of\nthe presence of Indians on board. The number of Easterns who go to\nEurope for educational and other purposes increases so rapidly that\nthey now form a distinct element on many steamers. One autumn when\ncoming to England, half the passengers in the second saloon were\nEasterns on their way westwards, chiefly for educational purposes, and\ntravelling at that season in order to be in time for the classes and\ncolleges, which begin their new course or term in October. We\ncalculated that there were nearly twenty different languages being\ntalked amongst us, and there were few phases of religion\nunrepresented.\n\nIn the first saloon were a few wealthy Indian lads on their way to\nEnglish public schools, clad in the most approved English boys' dress,\nand nearly all these travellers were in full European costume, though\na few retained the turban. Some of the combinations of colour in the\nshape of socks and ties were rather startling. But Indians quickly\ncorrect any mistakes of this kind after they have reached England, and\nhave had time to observe what well-dressed people usually wear. Many\nof them were at first in great perplexity how to perform their\nablutions in English baths, and the first morning or two they might be\nseen wandering about in the region of the baths with anxious faces.\nBut they somehow found some solution to their difficulties, and\nultimately distracted the man in charge of the baths by staying in\nlong beyond the regulation ten minutes. \"Too long,\" I heard the\nbathman say to one of these Indian gentlemen, who had been taking his\nbath in the leisurely fashion to which he had been accustomed in his\nown home. \"_Not_ too long,\" was the laconic reply.\n\nThe question of food is also a cause of great anxiety to some. \"We are\nvegetarians,\" I heard one of them say to a ship's steward as he\nentered the saloon for his first meal, and the puzzled steward went\noff to consult his superiors as to what was to be done. But as the\nmere fact of crossing the seas to a foreign country constitutes a\nbreach of caste, according to strict Hindu law, which will have to be\natoned for on return, further breaches do not make much difference,\nand many of these travellers appear to enjoy their newly found liberty\nand eat freely all that is set before them, except that beef and pork\nare respectively avoided by Hindus and Mohammedans. Modern-minded\nHindus even contend that to cross the seas does not break caste, and\nthat their sacred writings support this view, and the matter has\nbecome the subject of long-drawn-out litigation by aggrieved Hindus\nwho have been out-casted on their return from foreign travel.\n\nOne of the voyagers belonged to the Jain sect amongst the Hindus, who\ntake the most elaborate precautions to avoid even the accidental\ndestruction of the smallest animal life. He had been prudent enough to\nbring a Jain with him to act as his cook; but this man becoming\ncompletely incapacitated by sea-sickness, his employer had to fall\nback upon such stores of dry food as he had with him, until the cook\nrecovered. Indians are not good sailors, and a very moderate sea sent\nmost of them to the seclusion of their cabins.\n\nThis Jain was going to London to become a barrister. He told me that\nhis sect believes in the immortality of God, the soul, and matter.\nHence the two last are as indestructible as the first. The world,\ntherefore, will always exist, and each soul will continue to be\ntransmigrated for any number of ages until it gets absorbed into God.\nNot to lead an exemplary life involves the unpleasant risk of\nreappearing in some debased form, and also delays the realisation of\nthe final absorption. Their particularity about the taking of life\npresumably arises from the possibility that if you destroy even the\nhumblest insect it may be a relation who has unfortunately had to\nassume this form, and causes even eggs to be classed amongst forbidden\narticles, because they contain the germ of life.\n\nThree brothers, Sikhs, kept in their little inside cabin almost all\nthe voyage, with the door and ventilators generally closed, and seemed\nperfectly content, except when prostrated by sea-sickness. They took\nall their meals there, and they were heard imploring their steward to\nbe careful not to bring them any \"beef.\" The smallness and stuffiness\nof their cabin perhaps recalled pleasantly their Indian home. They\ntalked and laughed the whole day, and would have certainly done so\nhalf the night, except that the English occupant of the next cabin\ncalled upon them at bedtime and suggested that having talked all day\nit might be well for the sake of others to devote the night to sleep,\nand they cheerfully and courteously accepted the hint. Now and then,\nif it was very fine and smooth, they came on deck, but held no\nintercourse with the other Indian passengers, and played cards most of\nthe time. They wore European coats and shirts, the tails of the latter\nbeing worn outside according to Indian custom. Their legs were cased\nin the white breeches peculiar to their race, very baggy in the upper\npart, but fitting so close below that the problem of how they get into\nthem remains a mystery. On their heads were immense and picturesque\nwhite turbans. It was touching to see the extent to which the elder\nbrother was looked up to, with that delightful combination of\naffection and respect characteristic of this particular relationship\nin India. They were gentle, courteous people, and everybody liked\nthem.\n\nAn Indian, who called himself a Parsee, but there was reason to think\nthat he was really a Bengali Hindu, was on his way to Germany to learn\nSanskrit. As India is its home, although it is no longer a spoken\nlanguage, except that Sanskrit words are found in many vernaculars, it\nappeared strange that an Indian should be travelling westwards in\norder to learn an Eastern language. But he explained that the Indian\nPundits, or teachers, though they know Sanskrit, have no knowledge of\nhow to teach it, and with characteristic disregard for the value of\ntime, spend at least six years in teaching what, with more rational\nmethods, might be learnt in two. In Germany this Indian hoped to see\nthe most up-to-date way of teaching languages, and then he proposed to\nreturn to India and introduce the modern system in the college of\nwhich he said he was professor of Sanskrit.\n\nPassing alongside the Italian coast, he said to me: \"I hope very much\nto see Italy before I return to my own country. I understand that the\nItalian cathedrals are very beautiful, and a cathedral always appeals\nto me very strongly. I should also like to see Assisi. The character\nof S. Francis has great charms for me.\" I said that, with ideas such\nas these, he ought to be a Christian. \"Possibly,\" he replied; \"I have\nthe greatest veneration for Christ as the greatest among prophets.\"\nEnglish-speaking Hindus, however, have a remarkable power of adapting\ntheir sentiments to their society. I overheard the same man\ncontrasting, for the benefit of a young Egyptian, the way in which\nfamine is dealt with in a native state and by the Government of India,\nby which it would appear that whereas the former did everything, the\nlatter did nothing.\n\nIn the saloon the Indians naturally gathered to their own tables, but\nin fine weather they entered into the usual deck life of a liner, sat\nabout in deck-chairs, made some show of reading, chiefly English light\nliterature, made an attempt at the stereotyped deck games, played\ncards largely, and discovered that lemon-squash was a cooling drink,\nand those who could afford it went in for it often. They nearly all of\nthem knew exactly where they were going to in London, and expected to\nbe met by friends or relations already there. There are also many\nagencies and individuals who are ready to interest themselves in these\nyoung students, and to help them with advice and sympathy when they\nare willing to accept it. There are now quite a number of Indian\nhouses in London where students lodge, and where they can arrange to\nhave their food served in orthodox fashion. A few of these houses have\nat times become centres of mischief, and have had to be kept under\nobservation.\n\nThe Indians on board lived very much in cliques, just as they do in\ntheir own country, and with few exceptions there was but little\ngeneral interchange of ideas amongst themselves. Curiously enough,\nthe connecting link was to be found in the English population on\nboard, who mixed with them all good-humouredly. That it is possible\nfor East and West to meet on equal terms, and to dine in the same room\nif not at the same table, and to get on happily in daily intercourse,\nwas proved by the pleasant way in which, within the narrow limits of a\nship's second-class quarters, everybody managed to pull together. It\nwas also a satisfactory feature of this medley of races and religions\nthat the only person for whom there was no place, and who finally got\nsent to Coventry, was an Englishwoman who professed to be a\ntheosophist.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX\n\n\nAffection, 15\n\nAgricultural experiments, 329\n\nAgriculture, 328; colleges of, 328\n\nAnimals, 176\n\nAntelope, 177\n\nAnthony, St., 245\n\nAnts, 191;\n  white, 191\n\nArchitecture, Indian view of, 17\n\nArt, 60;\n  degenerating, 60;\n  Christian, 64\n\nArtists, Indian, 63\n\nAscetics, 3, 196, 199;\n  maxims for, 166\n\n\nBand, native, 102, 140;\n  English, 102;\n  \"Europe,\" 102\n\nBaptism, 23, 338;\n  Nonconformist laxity concerning, 5, 86\n\nBarbel tree, 197\n\nBarber, 271\n\nBath, 110, 290, 293, 341\n\nBeasts, wild, 170\n\nBees, 190\n\nBeetles, 189\n\nBeggars, feasts to, 12;\n  Hindu religious, 201\n\nBells, bullocks', 324\n\nBenson, Father, 156\n\nBhumya, his conversion, 338\n\nBible, quoted by Hindus, 4\n\n_Bile polar_, festival for cattle, 245\n\n_Bin_, musical instrument, 101\n\nBirds, 185, 187;\n  scaring, 271\n\nBishop, Indian, 93\n\nBlacksmiths, 271\n\nBlasting, 261\n\nBlister beetle, 189\n\nBookbinding, 150\n\nBooks in India, 143, 148; prayer, 144, 149; price of, 149\n\nBoundary stones, 221, 253\n\nBoy, Indian, 161, 163, 168, 192\n\nBrahmins, 84, 85, 164, 265;\n  ladies, 23;\n  thread, 122\n\nBrain-fever bird, 185\n\nBrass, its polish, 62\n\nBread, 109\n\nBribes, 296;\n  on the railway, 296;\n  in trade, 298\n\nBuffalo, 179;\n  the dead, 71\n\nBugs, 192\n\nBullocks, 324, 325;\n  drawing water, 98\n\nBungalow, 292, 297\n\nBurial, 71, 268\n\nButterflies, 195\n\n\nCamels, 181\n\nCard-playing, 117\n\nCaretaker, the faithful, 28;\n  his contentment, 29;\n  his prayers, 30\n\nCarpenters, 271\n\nCarpets, 78\n\nCaste, 167, 210, 278;\n  breach of, 168, 237, 341\n\nCatholic Church, 88, 96\n\nCattle, festival for, 245\n\nCemetery, Christian, 263;\n  consecrated, 267;\n  Cross, 267;\n  Hindu, 173\n\nChairs, 56\n\nCharacter, Indian, 24, 90, 157, 249, 254, 289;\n  shallow, 158, 160, 166\n\nCheating labourers, 26, 30, 31\n\nChoir-boys, 104\n\n_Chowdi_, 215;\n  sleeping in, 314\n\nChristian art, 64, 65\n\nChristian Indians, 5, 15, 209, 226;\n  their hospitality, 13, 43;\n  honesty, 242;\n  respect for their mother, 14;\n  dress for, 41;\n  their expenses, 42;\n  their unpunctuality, 51;\n  their meals, 56, 236;\n  _panchayat_, 68;\n  their happiness, 115;\n  their prayer books, 144, 149;\n  houses, 254, 255\n\nChurch at Yerandawana, 19-23, 126, 155, 282\n\nClarke, Sir George, 103\n\nClergy, Indian, 89, 90, 91, 92\n\nClerk, Hindu village, 223, 224, 253\n\nCobra, 309, 310\n\nCockroaches, 190\n\nCold, 275;\n  Indians sensitive to, 276\n\nCollectors, 80, 230\n\nComfort, increase of, 299, 301\n\nConfessions to police, 217\n\nConfirmation, 94\n\nConversion of India, 83;\n  of Brahmins, 84, 85;\n  of low castes, 85;\n  in famine time, 85\n\nCooking, particular about, 108;\n  pots, 56, 271;\n  graceful shape of, 61\n\nCourt, High, 212;\n  petty, 212;\n  Police, 214;\n  Registrar's, 265\n\nCourtesy of Indians, 231\n\nCricket, 130, 285\n\nCrime, 217, 218\n\nCrispin, St., church of, 65, 266\n\nCrocodiles, 182\n\nCross, Southern, 182\n\nCrows, 187\n\nCustoms of East and West, 234, 239, 284, 294\n\n\nDacoits, 314, 315\n\nDance, _nautch_, 76, 79;\n  religious, 155, 156\n\n_Dasara_, Hindu festival, 244\n\nDaughter-in-law, 210, 211\n\nDeer, 177\n\nDefects of Indians, 2\n\nDelhi, 177, 181, 196, 198;\n  declaration at, 162\n\n_Delhi Mission News_, 6\n\n_Dhobie_, washerman, 43, 317;\n  Christian, 318\n\n_Dhota_, Hindu garment, 41, 44, 55, 79, 193, 198, 284\n\nDishonesty, Hindu, 27, 297\n\nDissenters, 289\n\nDonkey, 179\n\nDrawing, 18, 281\n\nDress, English, 40, 41, 42, 236, 291, 300, 301;\n  Indian, 41, 44, 45, 46, 65, 236;\n  policeman's, 46\n\n\nEast and West, customs of, 234, 239, 284, 294;\n  travelling, 228, 234;\n  on board ship, 231, 337, 340, 346\n\nEducation, 84;\n  mistaken, 146, 283;\n  effects of, 247, 286;\n  rational, 283\n\nElephants, 180\n\nEmployers of labour, 24\n\nEnglish, dress, 40, 41, 42, 57, 343;\n  workers, 95;\n  letters in, 144;\n  advertisements in, 145;\n  literature for Indians, 146;\n  the, in India, 288, 292\n\nEntertainments, 74\n\nEuropean customs, 40;\n  control, 89;\n  compartment, 232;\n  goods, 280\n\nEvening-tide, 335\n\nEye-fly, 194\n\n\nFace, Hindu, 115, 208\n\nFakir, 196\n\nFamine, 85\n\nFeasts, to beggars, 12; village, 138\n\nFiction, India in, 143\n\nFingers, eating with, 236\n\nFire-flies, 183\n\nFlattery, 119\n\nFlies, 194\n\nFlowers, offerings of, 18\n\nFood, 107\n\nFrost, 276\n\nFuel, 329\n\nFurniture, 78\n\n\nGames, 130, 285\n\nGarlands, 19, 81, 230\n\nGifts, 263, 268\n\nGods, Hindu, 3, 120;\n  conception of, 119, 120;\n  burial of, 118;\n  robbery of, 118\n\n_Golden Threshold, The_, 111\n\n_Gosavies_, 198\n\nGovernment officials, 241\n\nGovernors, 238\n\nGreetings, 305\n\nGrinding, 98, 105\n\n_Gunpatti_, Hindu god, 118\n\n_Guru_, religious teacher, 202\n\nGymnasium, village, 137\n\n\nHeber, Bp., 288\n\nHigh castes, 84, 208, 248, 306\n\nHindu college, visitors from, 21\n\nHinduism, 2, 5, 6, 117, 128;\n  and Christianity, 4, 6, 115, 121, 128, 209, 244, 285, 337, 338;\n  definitions of, 6-10\n\nHindus, nominal, 58, 59, 121;\n  educated, 247\n\nHole, Mr. W., pictures by, 127\n\nHome life, absence of, 56;\n  of Brahmin doctor, 57\n\nHonesty, 226, 242, 243;\n  of the _dhobie_, 322\n\nHorses, 181\n\nHospitality, 11;\n  Hindu customs concerning, 12;\n  of Indian Christians, 13, 43\n\nHouses, 249, 250, 254;\n  how furnished, 55;\n  Indian in London, 345\n\n_Howd_, tank, 317\n\nHyderabad, the Nizam of, 112\n\nHymns, 104\n\n\nIdolatry, 2, 208, 337\n\nImmorality, 69\n\n_Inam_, grant, 74, 264\n\n_Inamdar_, 74;\n  his house, 78\n\nInsects, 188\n\nInspector, police, 215\n\nInstitute, Indian at Oxford, 45\n\nIrrigation, 330\n\n_Itte-dhandu_, boys' game, 135\n\n\nJackals, 173\n\nJacob, Sir Swinton, 61\n\n_Jain_, sect, 342\n\nJerome, the story of a Brahmin boy, 115\n\nJewellery, native, 62\n\nJeypore, museum at, 61\n\n\nKala, village of, 171\n\nKathiawar, 175\n\nKhandala, 320\n\nKim's talk, 143\n\nKing, H.M. the, 153, 162\n\nKipling, Rudyard, 143, 175\n\nKite, bird, 187\n\nKites, 133\n\n_Krait_, snake, 310\n\n\nLabour, employers of, 24;\n  dignity of, 129\n\nLand, buying, 263\n\nLandmark, neighbour's, 253\n\nLanguage, 306\n\nLaw-courts, 119, 212\n\n\"Lawrence,\" the, school, 162\n\nLights, incandescent, 139, 272\n\nLion, 175\n\nLitigation, 224\n\nLocusts, 183\n\nLow castes, 85, 278\n\n\nMagisterial inquiry, 67\n\n_Mahars_, low-caste, 70, 71, 214;\n  boys, 72\n\nMantis, 195\n\nManure, 329; farmers and, 331\n\nMap, 222\n\nMarbles, 131\n\nMarriage, 151;\n  of widows, 206, 209\n\nMeals, 55, 107, 207, 236;\n  English and Indian, 107, 109, 238\n\nMedicine-men, 315\n\nMiddleton, Bp., 291\n\nMilitary display, 153, 154\n\nMills, grinding, 98, 105\n\nMineral waters, 139\n\nMisconceptions about India, 1, 272, 273, 288\n\nMission work, 89;\n  heads of, 94, 96\n\nMohammedans, 302;\n  ascetics, 196;\n  conception of heaven, 303;\n  egg-merchant, 198, 200;\n  and marriage, 302, 304;\n  merchants, 303;\n  saints, 75\n\nMoney, 225\n\nMongoose, 178\n\nMonkeys, 177\n\nMonsoon, 273-5\n\nMoral maxims, 166;\n  instruction, 286\n\nMosquitoes, 193;\n  net for, 193\n\nMother, respect for, 13, 16;\n  Swithun's, 15\n\nMother-in-law, 210, 211\n\nMotor cars, 80, 181;\n  bullocks and, 326\n\nMusic, 81, 98, 100, 101;\n  Sir G. Clarke on, 103, 104\n\nMusical instruments, 101\n\n\nNaidu, Mrs Sarojini, 111;\n  her portrait, 115\n\nNational characteristics, 141\n\nNature, illustrations from, 164;\n  Indian view of, 17;\n  the world of, 182\n\n_Nautch_, dance, 76, 79\n\nNeatness, lack of, 90, 91\n\nNight, alarms, 309, 313;\n  thieves, 251;\n  travelling by, 99;\n  watchmen, 312\n\n\nObedience, Indian, 25\n\nObstinacy, 159\n\nOman, Mr. J. C., 166\n\n\nPageants, 151\n\nPainting, mural, 64\n\nPalaces, 60\n\nPalanquin bearers, 100\n\n_Panchayat_, committee of five, 66;\n  Christian, 68\n\n_Pan supari_, leaf and betel nut, 75, 80;\n  party, 76\n\nPanther, 172\n\nPaper, daily, 300;\n  vernacular, 301\n\nParsees, 48, 65, 125, 186, 271\n\n_Patel_, headman, 71, 213, 214, 316;\n  his gift, 264\n\nPatience, 92\n\nPayments, how made, 26\n\nPersian visitors, 126\n\nPhilosophy, Hindu, 111\n\nPictures, from England, 63;\n  by Indian artists, 63\n\nPigs, wild, 178\n\nPlague Refuge Camp, 281\n\nPleaders, 225\n\nPlural, use of, 306\n\nPoetry, 112\n\nPolice, 213;\n  umbrellas for, 279\n\nPolitical unrest, 131, 280\n\nPoona City, 77, 164, 281;\n  ancient houses in, 60, 61;\n  modern houses in, 60, 61, 257\n\nPost, cards, 34;\n  offices, 33;\n  postman, 38;\n  post-runners, 32\n\nPostal privileges, 36;\n  service, 32;\n  train-sorters, 35\n\nPotatoes, 335\n\nPotter, 271\n\nPoverty, 54, 108, 225\n\nPrayer, Hindu, 30, 121\n\nPrayer Book valued, 144\n\nPrinting, 149\n\nProcessions, 151;\n  funeral, 152;\n  religious, 154\n\nProjects, unfinished, 158, 256;\n  imaginary, 257\n\nProperty, 221\n\nProverbial sayings, 270\n\nPsalm cl., 156\n\nPunishment, 161, 213\n\nPurdah women, 81\n\nPurity, 70\n\nPusa College, 328\n\n\nReligion, 117;\n  true, 240\n\nReligious controversy, 164;\n  phases, 124\n\nRepartee, 129\n\nRest-house, 99\n\nRewards, government, 172\n\nRivers, 77, 183, 319\n\nRobbery, by train-sorters, 35;\n  in temples, 118\n\nRoman Catholics, 87, 124, 290\n\nRudeness, to employers, 24, 25;\n  to Indians, 228\n\n\nSacred books, Hindu, 3\n\nSalvation Army, 290\n\nSanskrit, 344\n\nScenery, oblivious to, 17\n\nSchoolboys, 219;\n  Hindu, 283, 340\n\nScorpions, 191\n\nSects, 87, 88\n\nServants, 295, 297;\n  punctuality, 52;\n  Christian, 242, 244, 269;\n  heathen, 243;\n  of Europeans, 72, 237, 238, 241\n\n_Shiggram_, carriage, 299\n\n_Shinde_, pigtail, 284, 339\n\nShoes, 299\n\nShops, 300\n\n_Sikhs_, 343\n\nSinging, 81, 98, 99, 100, 103, 140\n\nSlang, 147\n\nSmell of India, 305\n\nSnakes, 293, 309, 312\n\nSocks, 299\n\nSoldiers, 100\n\nSon, eldest, 332\n\nSparrows, 186\n\nSpiders, 192\n\nSpirit, Holy, 97\n\nSquirrel, 176\n\nState, native, 119\n\nStation-masters, Indian, 49\n\nSugar cane, 331;\n  parties, 332;\n  juice, 333\n\nSun, 277;\n  caution about, 290\n\nSurvey Department, 222\n\nSwallows, 186\n\nSwearing, 125, 147\n\nSwithun's mother, 15\n\nSymons, Mr Arthur, 111\n\n\nTelegrams, 37;\n  abuse of, 37\n\nTemples, Hindu, 122;\n  behaviour in, 117\n\nThackeray, Mr., 195\n\nThieving, 218, 250\n\nTigers, 170;\n  den, 173;\n  tigress, 173\n\nTilak, Mr., 120, 281\n\nTips, 269\n\nTitles, 74\n\nTomb, Mohammedan, 79, 196\n\nTom Tiddler's ground, 136\n\nToothbrush, 235\n\nTops, 132\n\nTorture, 213, 217, 218\n\nTrades, 270;\n  ancestral, 323\n\n\"Traveller's tale,\" 182\n\n_Tulsi_ plant, 58, 208\n\nTunes, 103;\n  Indian, for hymns, 104\n\nTurban, 44, 284, 343\n\n\nUmbrellas, 278\n\nUnfinished projects, 158, 256, 258, 260\n\nUnpunctuality, 48;\n  instance of, 49;\n  on the railway, 48, 49;\n  at meals, 52, 53;\n  incurable, 50, 51;\n  amongst Christians, 51, 92, 93, 94;\n  illustration from parables, 52\n\nUnrest, political, 278, 280\n\n\nVillages, 66\n\nVultures, 186\n\n\nWasherman, 317\n\nWasps, 190\n\nWatchmen, night, 72\n\nWells, 258, 260\n\nWidows, Hindu, 22, 204;\n  at Yerandawana, 206;\n  garments of, 205;\n  Home for, 205, 207, 299;\n  marriage of, 206, 209\n\nWindows, 56\n\nWolf-boys, 174\n\nWolves, 174\n\nWomen, their dress, 44, 65;\n  their meals, 55;\n  _purdah_, 81;\n  grinding, 98, 105, 106\n\nWork, low ideal of, 295\n\nWrestling, 137;\n  prizes for, 138;\n competitions, 140\n\nWrongdoing, 212, 217, 218\n\n\nXavier, St Francis, 97\n\n\nYerandawana, 15, 18, 19, 33, 74, 126, 154, 196, 202, 206, 263\n\nYonge, Miss, 21\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\n_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_\n\n\nINDIAN JOTTINGS\n\nFROM TEN YEARS' EXPERIENCES\nIN AND AROUND POONA CITY\n\nBY THE REV. EDWARD F. ELWIN\nOF THE SOCIETY OF ST JOHN THE EVANGELIST, COWLEY\n\nWith Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net\n\n     \"Mr Elwin has written a book of singular merit, and as\n     compared with most of the many books about India, of quite\n     unusual value. It is what Carlyle would have called a\n     sincere book.... The author writes out of the fulness of\n     personal knowledge and observation, with no other object\n     than that of telling truly what he knows, and describing\n     with fidelity what he has seen.\"--_The Scotsman._\n\nHOBSON-JOBSON. Being a Glossary of Colloquial Anglo-Indian Words and\nPhrases, and of Kindred Terms--Etymological, Historical, Geographical,\nand Discursive. By the late Colonel Sir HENRY YULE, R.E., C.B., and\nthe late ARTHUR COKE BURNELL, Ph.D., C.I.E. Second Edition, thoroughly\nrevised by WILLIAM CROOKE, B.A. Demy 8vo, 28s. net.\n\n_A NEW EDITION, THOROUGHLY REVISED_\n\nA HANDBOOK FOR TRAVELLERS IN INDIA, BURMA, AND CEYLON. Including the\nProvinces of Bengal, Bombay, Madras, the United Provinces of Agra and\nLucknow, the Panjab, Eastern Bengal and Assam, the North-West Frontier\nProvince, Baluchistan and the Central Provinces, and the Native States\nof Rajputana, Central India, Kashmir, Hyderabad, Mysore, etc. With\nnumerous Maps and Plans. 20s.\n\nSTORIA DO MOGOR; Or, MOGUL INDIA (1653-1708). By NICCOLAO MANUCCI,\nVenetian. Translated, with Notes and Introduction, by WILLIAM IRVINE,\nlate of the Bengal Civil Service; Member of Council, Royal Asiatic\nSociety. With 61 Illustrations and a Map. Four Volumes. Medium 8vo,\n12s. net each. Edited under the supervision of the Royal Asiatic\nSociety.\n\nTHE ECONOMIC TRANSITION IN INDIA. By Sir THEODORE MORISON, K.C.I.E.,\nAuthor of \"The Industrial Organisation of an Indian Province.\" Demy\n8vo, 5s. net.\n\n     \"Students of the British East must on no account miss this\n     book. In a sense it forms really a history of India, from\n     the workaday material standpoint. This is a book to read and\n     to keep for reference.\"--_Standard._\n\nTHE INDUSTRIAL ORGANIZATION OF AN INDIAN PROVINCE. By Sir THEODORE\nMORISON, K.C.I.E., formerly Principal of the Mohammedan College at\nAligarh. Demy 8vo, 10s. 6d. net.\n\n     \"His opinions are expressed with lucidity and moderation,\n     and even where they provoke dissent they demand the closest\n     attention.\"--_Manchester Guardian._\n\nSTUDIES OF INDIAN LIFE AND SENTIMENT. By Sir BAMPFYLDE FULLER,\nK.C.S.I., C.I.E. Second Impression. With Map. Crown 8vo, 6s. net.\n\n     \"We ought to read and remember all that Sir Bampfylde Fuller\n     says of the history, the geography, the weather, and the\n     peoples of India; to have some idea of the different\n     religions and the numbers of their adherents, of the Caste\n     system and village communities, of domestic life and\n     agricultural methods; and to know what causes famine, what\n     famine and famine relief means, how commerce thrives in\n     India, how the people is governed and educated, and whence\n     the revenue is derived. All these things are briefly set\n     forth in these studies by one who spent his life in the\n     Government service, and who neither in his views nor his\n     sympathies can be accused of hide-bound\n     officialism.\"--_World._\n\nEVENTS OF THE INDIAN MUTINY AT FEROZEPORE AND THROUGHOUT THE SIEGE OF\nDELHI. Personal Reminiscences of Captain Griffiths. Edited by Captain\nHENRY JOHN YONGE, formerly of the 61st Regiment. With Illustrations.\nDemy 8vo, 9s. net.\n\n     \"Such a volume as the present is an invaluable document, not\n     merely for historians of the Mutiny, but for all students of\n     the history of the relations between European and\n     non-European races.... Graphic even to an exciting degree,\n     and he proves himself to have an eye for a fine scene, an\n     heroic act, or a humorous incident.\"--_Daily News._\n\nLIFE AND LABOUR IN INDIA. By A. YUSUF-ALI, M.A., LL.M.(Cantab),\nM.R.A.S., Barrister-at-Law, of His Majesty's Indian Civil Service.\nWith Illustrations. Including Drawings by Native Artists. 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With an Introduction by Sir GEORGE\nBIRDWOOD, K.C.I.E., C.S.I., LL.D. Large Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d. net.\n\nTHINGS INDIAN. Being Discursive Notes on various subjects connected\nwith India. By WILLIAM CROOKE. Demy 8vo, 12s. net.\n\nSOME INDIAN FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES. A Study of the Ways of Birds\nand other Animals frequenting Indian Streets and Gardens. By\nLieut.-Col. D. D. CUNNINGHAM. With Illustrations. Square Demy 8vo,\n12s. net.\n\nPLAGUES AND PLEASURES OF LIFE IN BENGAL. By Lieut.-Col. D. D.\nCUNNINGHAM. With Coloured and Half-tone Illustrations, Square Demy\n8vo, 12s. net.\n\nINDIA AND TIBET. By Colonel Sir FRANCIS YOUNGHUSBAND, K.C.I.E. With\nMaps and Illustrations. Medium 8vo, 21s. net.\n\n     \"The expedition to Lhasa six years ago has already had three\n     historians, but Sir Francis Younghusband's work is invested\n     with a special value which none of its predecessors can\n     claim. He was the responsible leader of the Mission of 1904,\n     and what he has to say about it, and about the circumstances\n     which led to its despatch, bears the stamp of final and\n     indisputable authority ... a full and balanced account of\n     the political aspects of the Tibetan problem, the motives\n     which led to the unveiling of Lhasa, the results of the\n     Mission, and the questions which still await solution. His\n     book, therefore, constitutes the most important contribution\n     yet made to the growing store of literature about\n     Tibet.\"--_Times._\n\n\n\n\nTHE WISDOM OF THE EAST SERIES\n\nCONTAINS ORIGINAL TRANSLATIONS OF THE\nGREAT RELIGIOUS, PHILOSOPHICAL, AND\nLITERARY CLASSICS OF THE EAST\n\n     Amongst the subjects treated of are Buddhism, Mohammedanism,\n     Confucianism, Judaism, the Bahai Religion, Chinese, Persian\n     and Arabian Mysticism, and the Poetry of China and Japan.\n\nTHE HEART OF INDIA. Sketches in the History of Hindu Religion and\nMorals. By L. D. BARNETT, M. A., Litt. D., Professor of Sanskrit at\nUniversity College, London. 2s. net.\n\nBRAHMA-KNOWLEDGE: AN OUTLINE OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE VEDANTA. As set\nforth by the Upanishads and by Sankara. By L. D. BARNETT, M. A., Litt.\nD., Professor of Sanskrit at University College, London. 2s. net.\n\nTHE PATH OF LIGHT. Rendered for the first time into English from the\nBodhi-charyavatara of Santi-Deva. A Manual of Maha-Yana Buddhism. By L. D.\nBARNETT, M. A., Litt. D. 2s. net.\n\nLEGENDS OF INDIAN BUDDHISM. Translated from \"L'Introduction a\nl'Histoire du Buddhisme Indien\" of Eugene Burnouf, with an\nIntroduction by WINIFRED STEPHENS. 2s. net.\n\nTHE WAY OF THE BUDDHA. Selections from the Buddhist texts, together\nwith the original Pali, with Introduction by HERBERT BAYNES, M.R.A.S.\n2s. net.\n\n\nLONDON: JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.","title":"India and the Indians","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":83797}