{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_40708/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_40708","id":"gutenberg_40708","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40708","summary":null,"tags":["Animals -- Folklore","Category: Archaeology & Anthropology","Category: Nature/Gardening/Animals","Domestic animals -- India","Human-animal relationships -- India","India -- Social life and customs"],"text":"Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 40708-h.htm or 40708-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/40708/pg40708-images.html)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/40708/40708-h.zip)\n\n\n      Images of the original pages are available through\n      Internet Archive. See\n      http://archive.org/details/beastmaninindiap00kipliala\n\n\n\n\n\nBEAST AND MAN IN INDIA\n\nA Popular Sketch of Indian Animals\nin Their Relations with the People\n\nby\n\nJOHN LOCKWOOD KIPLING, C.I.E.\n\nWith Illustrations\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLondon\nMacmillan and Co., Limited\nNew York: The Macmillan Company\n1904\n\n\n\n\n   \"I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and\n        self-contained\n    I stand and look at them long and long.\n    They do not sweat and whine about their condition,\n    They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,\n    They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God,\n    Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of\n        owning things.\"\n\n                                                             WALT WHITMAN.\n\n\n                                                             \nTO THE OTHER THREE\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nCHAP.                                      PAGE\n\n1.  INTRODUCTORY                            1\n\n2.  OF BIRDS                               16\n\n3.  OF MONKEYS                             56\n\n4.  OF ASSES                               75\n\n5.  OF GOATS AND SHEEP                     87\n\n6.  OF COWS AND OXEN                      103\n\n7.  OF BUFFALOES AND PIGS                 154\n\n8.  OF HORSES AND MULES                   164\n\n9.  OF ELEPHANTS                          207\n\n10. OF CAMELS                             244\n\n11. OF DOGS, FOXES, AND JACKALS           261\n\n12. OF CATS                               282\n\n13. OF ANIMAL CALLS                       288\n\n14. OF ANIMAL TRAINING                    292\n\n15. OF REPTILES                           303\n\n16. OF ANIMALS IN INDIAN ART              320\n\n17. OF BEAST FIGHTS                       344\n\n18. OF ANIMALS AND THE SUPERNATURAL       352\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\nCALIGRAPHIC TIGER                   _M\u016bnshi Sher Muhammad_    _Dedication_\n\n                                                                  PAGE\n\nBIRD SCARING                            _J. L. Kipling_            15\n\nINITIAL (A PUNJAB WINDOW)                _Amir Bakhsh_             16\n\nTHE PARROT'S CAGE                       _J. L. Kipling_            18\n\nA PERFORMING PARROT                          _do._                 21\n\nA BIRD-SINGING MATCH (DELHI ARTISANS)        _do._                 23\n\nTHE FAMILIAR CROW                            _do._                 28\n\nCALF AND CROWS                               _do._                 29\n\nTERRA-COTTA SEED AND WATER TROUGH\n(FROM A PUNJAB VILLAGE MOSQUE)                                     48\n\nUNHOODED                                _F. H. Andrews_            51\n\nMONKEY GOD (FROM AN INDIAN\nLITHOGRAPH)                                                        56\n\nLANG\u016aRS AT HOME                         _J. L. Kipling_            58\n\nYOUNG MONKEYS AT PLAY                        _do._                 69\n\nINITIAL LETTER (ASSES IN A CITY ALLEY)       _do._                 76\n\nTHE POTTER AND HIS DONKEY                    _do._                 80\n\nA HINDU SACRIFICIAL KNIFE           _M\u016bnshi Sher Muhammad_         87\n\nA DOMESTIC SACRIFICE (MUHAMMADAN)       _J. L. Kipling_            89\n\nON THE DUSTY HIGHWAY                         _do._                 92\n\nMILCH GOATS                                  _do._                 94\n\nA GUILTY GOAT                                _do._                 95\n\nTHE GOAT-SKIN WATER-BAG (MASHK)         _J. L. Kipling_            97\n\nBHISTI, OR WATER-CARRIER                     _do._                 99\n\nA SPORTING MAN                               _do._                101\n\nA BOMBAY MILK WOMAN                          _do._                103\n\nKRISHNA ADORED BY THE GOPIS\n(FROM AN INDIAN PICTURE)                                          112\n\nKRISHNA DRIVES THE CATTLE HOME\n(FROM AN INDIAN PICTURE)                                          114\n\nPUNJAB BAILI (SPRINGLESS OX-CART)       _J. L. Kipling_           117\n\nCOMPARATIVE SIZES OF THE LARGEST\nAND SMALLEST BREEDS OF INDIAN OXEN      _J. L. Kipling_           118\n\nTHE BOMBAY REKLA                             _do._                119\n\nCOW AND CALF                                 _do._                123\n\nAT SUNSET                                    _do._                131\n\nPLOUGHING                                    _do._                135\n\nIN TIME OF DROUGHT                           _do._                137\n\nIN A GOOD SEASON                             _do._                139\n\nTHE OILMAN'S OX                              _do._                143\n\nTHE PERSIAN WHEEL                            _do._                144\n\nSHOEING AN OX                                _do._                146\n\nOOPLA (COW-DUNG FUEL)                        _do._                148\n\nGOING TO WORK (PUNJAB)                       _do._                150\n\nA RUSTIC KRISHNA                             _do._                152\n\nBUFFALOES                                    _do._                156\n\nMAHESWAR FIGHTING KALI\n(FROM AN INDIAN LITHOGRAPH)                                       158\n\nWAITING FOR THE WAZIR                   J. L. Kipling             164\n\nIN TRAINING                                  _do._                170\n\nINDIAN \"THORN BITS\"                 _M\u016bnshi Sher Muhammad_        173\n\nA PROCESSIONAL HORSE                    J. L. Kipling             175\n\nA RAJA'S CHARGER (MARWAR BREED)              _do._                177\n\nA RAJA'S HORSE (WAZIRI BREED)           _J. L. Kipling_           181\n\nA MONEY-LENDER ON A DECCAN PONY              _do._                183\n\nBOMBAY TRAM-HORSE WEARING HORSE-CAP     _J. Griffiths_            185\n\nPUNJAB FARMER ON A BRANDED MARE         _J. L. Kipling_           187\n\nTHE EKKA, NORTHERN INDIA                     _do._                191\n\nAN INDIAN FARRIER                            _do._                195\n\nA BEGGAR ON HORSEBACK (HINDU DEVOTEE)        _do._                203\n\nTHE WHEELS OF A MOUNTAIN BATTERY             _do._                205\n\nFROM THE SANCHI TOPE                         _do._                207\n\nGAN\u00c9SHA (FROM AN ANCIENT HINDU\nSCULPTURE)                                   _do._                209\n\nSHIV OR MAHADEO, WITH THE INFANT\nGAN\u00c9SH (FROM AN INDIAN LITHOGRAPH)                                210\n\nIF GAN\u00c9SHA STOOD                        _J. L. Kipling_           212\n\nAN ELEPHANT GOAD (ANKUS)            _M\u016bnshi Sher Muhammad_        227\n\nUNDRESS                                 _J. L. Kipling_           229\n\nA PAINTED ELEPHANT                  _M\u016bnshi Sher Muhammad_        231\n\nWAITING FOR THE RAJA                    _J. L. Kipling_           234\n\nIN ROYAL STATE                               _do._                236\n\nELEPHANT PILING TIMBER (BURMAH)              _do._                240\n\nELEPHANT LIFTING TEAK LOGS (BURMAH)          _do._                241\n\nBILOCH FAMILY ON THE MARCH                   _do._                244\n\nIN A SERAI (REST-HOUSE)                      _do._                248\n\nRAJPUT CAMEL-RIDER'S BELT           _M\u016bnshi Sher Muhammad_        249\n\nRAJPUT CAMEL GUNS                       _J. L. Kipling_           255\n\nTHE LEADING CAMEL OF A KAFILA\n(AFGHANISTAN)                                _do._                259\n\nA SUBALTERN'S DOG-BOY                        _do._                261\n\nOUTCASTES (A BEGGING LEPER AND\nPARIAH DOGS)                                 _do._                265\n\nPLAYFELLOWS                                  _do._                268\n\nIN FLOODTIME                                 _do._                280\n\nA HUNTING CHEETAH                       _J. L. Kipling_           294\n\nA RESTLESS BEDFELLOW                         _do._                296\n\nA BEAR LEADER                                _do._                298\n\nPERFORMING MONKEYS AND GOAT                  _do._                299\n\nA PERFORMING BULL (MADRAS)                   _do._                301\n\nVISHNU RECLINING ON THE SERPENT\n(FROM AN INDIAN LITHOGRAPH)                                       303\n\nA SNAKE-CHARMER                         _J. L. Kipling_           316\n\nINITIAL LETTER (DECORATIVE PARROTS)          _do._                320\n\nMODERN ELEPHANT SCULPTURE, FROM\nTHE TOMB OF SOWAI JAI SINGH,\nMAHARAJA OF JEYPORE                     _J. L. Kipling_           324\n\nBORAK.  CALIGRAPHIC PICTURE\nCOMPOSED OF PRAYERS                 _M\u016bnshi Sher Muhammad_        325\n\nSMALL WARES IN METAL                    _J. L. Kipling_           330\n\nBIRDS BY AN INDIAN DRAUGHTSMAN                                    332\n\nA PERI ON A CAMEL                     _Bhai Isur Singh_           333\n\nKRISHNA ON AN ELEPHANT                       _do._                334\n\nKRISHNA ON A HORSE                           _do._                335\n\nNANDI OR SACRED BULL                    _J. L. Kipling_           336\n\nCATTLE BY AN UNKNOWN INDIAN ARTIST                                338\n\nA PUNJAB HEROINE\n(FROM AN INDIAN LITHOGRAPH)                                       342\n\nANTELOPES. AN INDIAN ARTIST'S FANTASY                             343\n\nBUFFALO BULLS FIGHTING                  _J. L. Kipling_           344\n\nA DYING BULLOCK (FINIS)                      _do._                360\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nINTRODUCTORY\n\n\nWhen, on the 21st March 1890, under the auspices of the Hon. Sir Andrew\nScoble, the Legislative Council of India passed an Act (XI. of 1890) for\nthe prevention of cruelty to animals, some surprise was expressed in\nEngland that legislation should be necessary for a people who have long\nbeen quoted as an example of mercy. It was hinted that Orientals must have\nlearned cruelty, as they have learned drunkenness, from brutal Britons.\nThose who know India need not be told that this insinuation is groundless,\nsince both vices have for ages been rooted in the life of Eastern as of all\nthe nations under heaven. The general conclusion of cultivated Europe as to\nthe temper of Orientals towards animals is expressed by Mr. Lecky, in a\nclause of the sentence with which he concludes a survey of a growth of\nconsideration for animals as an element of public morals, in his _History\nof European Morals from Constantine to Charlemagne_, and runs thus: \"The\nMuhammadans and the Brahmans have in this sphere considerably surpassed the\nChristians.\"\n\nThere is enough truth in this statement to give interest to an examination\nof it. The gulf that must exist between religious prescriptions that have\nearned a world-wide reputation for mercy and a practice which has led a\nGovernment, strongly adverse to unnecessary legislation, to frame an\nenactment for the prevention of cruelty, deserves looking into. We ought,\nperhaps, to distrust most of the compendious phrases which presume to label\nour complex and paradoxical humanity with qualities and virtues, like drugs\nin a drawer. At all events, it is better not to try to make another rule\nbut to offer a few general considerations and details of actual fact,\nleaving the Christian to frame his summary for himself.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe wholesale ascription of tender mercy to India may not unfairly be held\nto be part of a wide and general misconception of Indian life and\ncharacter, of which the administrator, the schoolmaster, and the missionary\nhave reason to complain. They find on closer acquaintance that both Hindus\nand Muhammadans are more human and more like the rest of the world than the\nconventional pictures of Scholars, working from a dead and done-with\nliterature, had led them to expect. Some of the most authoritative of these\nwriters have never ventured to disturb their dreams by contact with the\nliving India of to-day, and their gushing periods have, in consequence, as\nmuch actuality as Gulliver's Travels. For nearly all, the last few\ncenturies of this era do not exist. To judge from their writings, the\nEnglish power in India might have succeeded that of the Gupta kings. No\nmention is made of the horrible hole of the pit from which the country was\ndigged; and the events that really shaped the character and habits of the\npeople are ignored in favour of ancient law-givers and forgotten Vedas.\nNothing could be more scholarly, amiable, sentimental, or mistaken, and the\nplain result is a falsification of history which has more ill effects than\nare visible on the narrow horizon of an English study.\n\nIt is not a pleasant subject to dwell upon, but there is no more fitting\nadjective than \"cruel\" for the India of the late Mogul and the Pind\u0101ri. We\nmay allow that through centuries of trouble the Hindu system availed to\npreserve Brahmanical ordinances, but these only affected a limited portion\nof the community. The masses of the people, who really have to do with\nanimals, could not but be demoralised. So general precepts of mercy for the\nmany shrank into ritual observances for the few. Moreover, such precepts as\nexist have been exaggerated in report.\n\nStrictly speaking, the Parsee religious code alone, among those of Oriental\nraces, directly enjoins a humane and considerate treatment of all animals\nduring their life, as may be fully learned from the Book of Ardha Viraf,\nthe Dante of the Zoroastrian _Inferno_. The Hindu worships the cow, and as\na rule is reluctant to take the life of any animal except in sacrifice. But\nthat does not preserve the ox, the horse, and the ass from being\nunmercifully beaten, over-driven, over-laden, under-fed, and worked with\nsores under their harness; nor does it save them from abandonment to\nstarvation when unfit for work, and to a lingering death which is made a\nlong torture by birds of prey, whose beaks, powerless to kill outright,\ninflict undeserved torment. And the same code which exalts the Brahman and\nthe cow, thrusts the dog, the ass, the buffalo, the pig, and the low-caste\nman beyond the pale of merciful regard.\n\nThe loving-kindness of which we hear is, in modern fact and deed, a vague\nreluctance to take life by a positive sudden act, except for sacrifice,--a\nlarge exception,--and a ceremonial reverence for the cow, which does not\navail to secure even for her such good treatment as the milch cows of\nEurope receive. There are some castes who hold it wrong even to\naccidentally destroy an insect, who keep a cloth before their mouths to\nprevent swallowing them, and who brush the ground before they seat\nthemselves, so that they may not crush out some minute life. But they teach\nno gospel of mercy, inheriting only an observance of their peculiar caste,\nabsolutely inert beyond its boundaries. Indeed, it is well for mankind that\nthey are not propagandists, for, clearly a man who refuses to take or to\ninterfere with animal life in any way, and who says that while the cat\nshould be left to kill the mouse, the serpent should not by a truly pious\nman be prevented from entering the cradle of his sleeping child, is not a\nteacher of much value. No general temper of pity towards animals in service\nhas been produced by Brahmanical law, and probably not by any merely\nreligious ordinances in any part of the world. Feeling for the sufferings\nof animals, restraint in their use, and recognition of their rights to\nconsideration, are just as modern in India as elsewhere.\n\nThe reluctance to kill, which is the main fact of Hindu animal treatment,\nis of itself, from a European point of view, a cause of needless suffering.\nWe speak of putting injured or diseased creatures out of their misery. To\nthe mind of the orthodox Hindu there is no such thing as euthanasia, and it\nis impious to attempt to bring it about. An English correspondent of the\n_Pioneer_, 30th October 1890, writes:--\n\n\"At Chandi, near Kalka, I last week found a Government d\u0101k horse lying in\na public grove, close to the road, a hind leg of which had been broken\n(according to the people there) three days before, through a kick. This\npoor beast had been hauled out and thrown down alive to die a lingering\ndeath. It was perfectly conscious. I found it surrounded by crows, which\nhad already picked out both of its eyes, and when I arrived were in the act\nof devouring other tender parts. The horse attracted my attention by\nthrowing its head up repeatedly to drive the crows off. Luckily I had a\npistol, and of course shot the animal at once.\"\n\nThere is nothing unusual in this, for it is the fate of all animals that\nserve the Hindu to be left to die; and though most English people would\napprove of that pistol-shot, it was wrong according to the Hindu canon.\n\nThe cause of the canon is not far to seek. The doctrine of the\ntransmigration of souls is at the root of _ahimsa_, the ancient principle\nof regard for animals, for it makes all living nature kin with humanity. A\nbull is more than a bull, he is a potential grandfather. We have all been\nhere before, and the souls of the hosts of men and animals, birds, and\nfishes have passed in these various disguises through infinite \u00e6ons of time\nand change. Believing this, you naturally hold your hand before dismissing\na soul to another flight and another change of dwelling.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn this, as in other Indian subjects, a vast and most various population\nhas been labelled with attributes that belong to a few of the upper classes\nalone. A description of the habits and beliefs of the Bench of Bishops\nwould scarcely be accepted as fairly representative of the masses of Great\nBritain, but something like this suffices for popular estimates of India.\nThose who have but little to do with animals are enjoined not to kill, but\nno command is laid on the low-caste Hindu, while the average Muhammadan,\nignorant though devout, knows of none. Even Hindus are not, as is commonly\nbelieved, universally vegetarian. Nearly all eat fish, vast and yearly\nincreasing numbers eat mutton and kid, Rajputs and Sikhs eat wild boar, and\nmost low-caste Hindus are only vegetarian when flesh food is not within\ntheir reach. All Muhammadans are flesh eaters as a matter of course. A\nLevitical code is naturally a mother of hypocrisy, so Hindus living among\nHindus of higher caste will call mutton _lal s\u00e2g_--red vegetable; and fish,\nwater beans; while prawns are ennobled as Shiva biscuits, but they are\neaten all the same.\n\nAnimal sacrifices, and the peculiar character of the religious ceremonies\nof certain Hindu S\u00e2kti worshipping castes, at whose meetings the eating of\nflesh and the drinking of wine and spirits form part of a ritual of orgy,\nalso tend to lower the standard from the ideal Europeans have conceived of\nthe Hindu. There are vast numbers of these \"left-hand\" worshippers. Here it\nmay be remarked that the \"official\" books of mythology, etc., are no guide\nto modern practice, or to a comprehension of modern life. Modern Hinduism,\nas Sir Monier M. Williams has well said, is \"a loose conglomerate,\" and it\nis a conglomerate in process of decay and change. The High Gods described\nin the works one may call \"official\" may not be quite dead, but they are\npractically superseded in favour of witchcraft, demonolatry, and fetishism,\nor by vulgar manifestations, usually of an orgiastic type. Wholesale\nslaughter and blood are constantly associated with these Gods, Godlings,\nand demons. Some writers claim for Hinduism a wonderful immutability; and\nthis preposterous contention, which would be scouted if made on behalf of\nany other race of mankind, has been allowed to pass unchallenged. It has\ndecay inherent in its system, and its history is one long chronicle of\nprotest, dissent, and change.\n\nPersons of the Vegetarian persuasion sometimes claim a moral superiority\nfor the Hindu, in that his delicacy of feeling is not blunted by the\nhorrors of the Western butcher's shop. This is plausible but illusory, for\nthere are plenty of butchers' shops in India, and it should be further\nremembered that of the thousands who habitually pass such shops in the\nWest, but a very small percentage have seen the act of slaughter, wherein\ndemoralising influence may be supposed to lie. The Hindu, on the other\nhand, is familiar with slaughter in a most revolting form, performed as an\nact of sacrifice. When we talk of sacrifice we think of the grave and\ndecent solemnities described in the Bible or in Homer. Such ideas are\nrudely dispelled by the reality in India. The goat and buffalo sacrifices\nto Kali at Kali gh\u00e2t in the highly civilised metropolis of Bengal are not\nto be mentioned in connection with any slaughtering we know of, for there\nmay be seen thousands of people gloating in delirious excitement over\nrivers of blood.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere are general injunctions of mercy in the Buddhist religion, but\nBuddhism has been dead and done with in India proper for centuries, and has\nleft but little behind it. Always vague and abstract, it is doubtful\nwhether its languid prescriptions ever effectively controlled the daily\npractice of the people. The Singhalese are Buddhists, and yet cruelty to\nanimals is one of the marks of modern Ceylon. The modern Burman is a\nBuddhist and should not take life. But, like Gautama Buddha himself, he\neats flesh, so he contents his conscience by calling the butcher a\nMuhammadan. We are apt to judge of the results of a creed from the aims of\nits commandments, which is putting the cart before the horse. Yet we ought\nto know better, for the main stress of our Christian commandment is to lay\nup no treasure on earth, to consider the lilies of the field, to sell all\nand follow the Christ, etc. etc. In the Christian capitals of the Western\nworld one may see how much of this injunction is obeyed.\n\nThe ordinary Englishman will not easily be persuaded that the act of\nkilling an animal or bird for food is necessarily a proof of cruelty. I\nwrite these lines in an English house in the country, the gracious lady\nwhereof has just returned from a visit to some friends in the village, who\nhad sent word that their pig was killed. Here is a delicate and refined\nEnglishwoman going in cold blood to see a dead pig! Nothing could be more\nhorrible from a Hindu or Muhammadan point of view, but from that of English\ncountry life it is natural enough. The lady is a valued friend of a\nstruggling family. Their pig has been kindly treated and carefully fed for\nmonths, and its death is a sort of festival; they are proud of its weight\nand size, and it is one of the triumphs of their provident and thrifty\nlives. \"And the pig?\" says the master of the house at lunch. \"Well, I had\nto look at the pig, and it seemed a fine pig enough. They said it weighed\n14 score, and I said it must be the largest they had fed since their\nmother died, and they were all much pleased, and wanted to tell me stories\nof past pigs, but I managed to escape.\"\n\nThe topsy-turvy morality of the East would give a higher place to the\nLevitically clean Hindu, who would die sooner than eat flesh, but who would\nalso rather die than touch or help a dying man of a low caste near his\ndoor, than to the English lady whose life is spent in active beneficence,\nbut who is defiled by eating beef and approaching the dead body of a pig.\n\nThe animal hospitals of India have been frequently quoted, and with some\nreason, as a proof of the tender mercy of the country. There are three of\nthese interesting institutions on the great continent, at Bombay, Surat,\nand Ahmedabad, chiefly maintained by Banians of the Jain faith. The Bombay\n\"pinjrapol,\" however, is said to have been largely endowed by the generous\nParsee, Sir Jamsetjee Jejeebhoy, first baronet of the name. They are not\nhospitals in the true sense, for ailments are not treated, but simply\nrefuges for halt, maimed, diseased, and blind creatures for whom nobody\ncares. Until the late Mr. J. H. Steel, Principal of the Bombay Veterinary\nCollege, took compassion on the inmates and regularly visited the place, no\nattempt had ever been made to alleviate their sufferings; and the\ninstitution is of some antiquity. Ritual reverence for life does not\ninclude the performance of acts of mercy. It is enough to save the animal\nfrom immediate death, and to place food within its reach. So you see there\ncreatures with unset broken limbs, with hoofs eighteen inches long, and\nmonstrous wens. The dogs, as I remember them twenty years ago, were a\nheartbreaking sight, confined, with nothing to do but fight, insufficiently\nfed, and all afflicted with one equal misery of mange. A quaint feature of\nthe place is an apartment supposed to be full of the vermin that feed on\nmankind. From time to time a man is paid to spend a night in this den in\norder to give the cherished insects a dinner, but first he is drugged to\ninsensibility, lest in his natural irritation he should be tempted to\ndestroy some of them. I have always doubted this, and certainly never saw\nit done, but it is one of the proudest traditions of the \"pinjrapol,\"\nvouched for by Native gentlemen of undoubted authority.\n\nThere are admirable points in the ritual respect for life, but it is not\ntrue humanity, nor is it practised with sufficient intelligence or feeling\nto profit the animal. We in the West may at least learn from it the\nreflection that all living things cling to life, nor need we in the present\nstate of Veterinary science be always so prompt with pistol or poleaxe as\nis our habit.\n\nBut it must be noted that the sect which cares for animal hospitals is\ncomparatively small, with only a local influence, and that its practice in\nthis matter is the subject of a good deal of popular gibe. For it is not\neasy to respect people who collect caterpillars, and feed fleas and other\nvermin with human blood, nor is it only to the Occidental that a fantastic\nglorification of the letter of a law may show the death of its spirit.\n\nOriental tender mercy has always been liable to this taint of grotesque\nexaggeration. That renowned model of kindness and generosity, whose name is\non every Oriental's lips, and whose deeds are constantly quoted--Hatim\nTai--fed his brother the tiger (as St. Francis of Assisi would say) with\nportions of flesh cut from his own limbs. This may be heroic, but, like\nmany other illustrious examples of Oriental goodness, it is also absurd,\nand so remote from every possibility of ordinary life and conduct as to\nexert no practical influence as a lesson.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nYet, while maintaining that no precept of mercy has protected animals in\nservitude in India, we may gladly admit that a more humane temper prevails\nwith regard to free creatures than in the West. Village boys are not there\nseen stoning frogs or setting dogs at cats, nor tying kettles to dogs'\ntails, and it has not been found necessary to forbid bird-nesting by Act of\nParliament. The Indian schoolboy on his way to school passes numbers of\nsquirrels, much resembling the chipmunk of America, but he never throws a\nstone at them; and the sparrow, the crow, the maina, and the hoopoe move\nfrom his path without a flutter of fear. The india-rubber catapult or\ntweaker of the West has not yet reached him, while the sling and the\n_gol\u00e9l_ or pellet-bow (the \"stone bow\" of Shakspeare) seem to be only used\nwhen guarding fruit and crops from the hungry parrakeet and the omnivorous\ncrow.\n\nOne of the most surprising things in the country is the patience with which\ndepredations on the crops are endured. With far less provocation the\nEnglish farmer organises sparrow clubs, and freely uses the gun, the trap,\nand the poisoned bait. And the Indian farmer suffers from creatures that\nearn no dole of grain by occasional insecticide. The monkey, the nilghai,\nthe black buck, the wild pig, and the parrakeet fatten at his expense, and\nnever kill a caterpillar or a weevil in return. He and his family spend\nlong and dismal hours on a platform of sticks raised a few feet above the\ncrops, whence they lift their voices against legions of thieves. The\nprinciple of abstaining from slaughter is pushed to an almost suicidal\npoint in purely Hindu regions, and becomes a serious trouble at times. A\nlarge tract of fertile country in the N.-W. Provinces, bordering on the\nBhurtpore State, is now lapsing into jungle on account of the inroads of\nthe nilghai and the wild pig. The \"blue cow\" or nilghai is sacred, and may\nnot be killed even by the villagers whom the creature drives from their\nhomes, and there are not enough sportsmen or tigers to keep down the wild\nboar.\n\nGardeners try to scare the birds with elaborate arrangements of string,\nbamboos, old pans, and stones in their fruit trees; and sometimes a watcher\nsits like a spider at the centre of an arrangement of cords, radiating all\nover the field, so that an alarming movement may be produced at any point.\nYet their tempers do not give way, and they preserve a monumental patience.\nSometimes they say: \"The peacock, the monkey, the deer, the partridge,\nthese four are thieves,\" or include other animals and birds with varying\nnumbers, but always with more resignation than resentment. The wisdom of\nthe village says that public calamities are seven, and are visitations of\nGod,--drought, floods, locusts, rats, parrots, tyranny, and invasion. The\nprofessional birdcatcher, however, is never of the farmer race, and owes\nhis victims no revenge; while a scornful proverb on his ragged and\ndisreputable condition shows that he earns no gratitude from the\ncultivator. Another rustic saying about bird slaughter, expanded into its\nfull meaning, would run: \"You kill a paddy-bird, and what do you get?--a\nhandful of feathers!\" Yet since Parisian milliners have decreed that\ncivilised women shall wear birds in their head-gear, there is not\nsufficient respect for animal life to stay the barbarous slaughter of them\nnow going on all over India.\n\nThe tolerance or indifference which leaves wild creatures alone is\nunfortunately an intimate ally of blank ignorance. That townspeople should\nbe ignorant of nature is to be expected, but even in the country a\nfly-catcher, a sparrow, and a shrike are all spoken of as _chiriyas_, birds\nmerely, and not one in fifty, save out-caste folk, can tell you anything of\ntheir habits, food, nests, or eggs. The most vague and incorrect statements\nare accepted and repeated without thought, a habit common to all\npopulations, but more firmly rooted in India than elsewhere. First-hand\nobservation and accurate statement of fact seem almost impossible to the\nOriental, and education has not hitherto availed to help him. In the West\npublic instruction becomes more real and vital year by year, but in the\nEast it is still bound hand and foot to the corpse of a dead literature.\nEducational authorities in India discern the fault, but they are themselves\nmainly of the literary caste and direct native Professors whose passion is\nfor words. We talk of science teaching, but forget to count with a national\nhabit of mind that stands carefully aloof from facts and is capable of\nreducing the splendid suggestions of Darwin and Wallace, Faraday and\nEdison, to mechanical and inert rote work.\n\nIndifference is intensified by the narrowness of sympathy produced by the\ncaste system, and by the discouragement of attachment to animals among\nrespectable people. Our modern school-books, in which lessons on animal\nlife and humane animal treatment are wisely included, may do something in\nthe course of time to lighten this \"blind side\" of Oriental character, and\nin a few generations we may hope for an Indian student of natural history.\nAt present this splendid field is left entirely to European observers, who\nmostly look at nature along the barrel of a gun. Which is a false\nperspective.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI conclude that, while admitting the need for a legislative measure for the\nprotection of animals, consonant with the wishes and feelings of the most\ncultivated classes in India, and of itself a sign of advancing civilisation\nand morality, it would be a task as difficult as hateful to prove that the\npeople at large have any abnormal and inborn tendency to cruelty. The\nshadow of evil days of anarchy, disorder, and rapine has but lately cleared\naway and given place to an era of security, when, as the country proverb\nsays, \"the tiger and the goat drink at one gh\u00e2t.\" The people are better\nthan their creeds, but it is not easy to defend their practice, though it\nis often more due to necessity, custom, and ignorance than to downright\nbrutality of intent.\n\nTo explain something of this in a familiar manner befitting an everyday,\nfamiliar subject is the purpose of this pen and pencil essay. It has seemed\nto me that an elementary study of Indian animals, their treatment and\nusage, and the popular estimates and sayings current about them, though\ninvolving much that is commonplace and trivial, opens a side door into\nIndian life, thought, and character, the threshold of which is still\nunworn.\n\nTo Anglo-Indians of long standing a word of apology is due for the apparent\nconfidence with which native beliefs are treated. The truth is, it is hard\nto state briefly ideas of this nature without a seeming assumption of\ncomplete knowledge. But they will recognise the difficulty of translating\nnebulous Indian notions into stark English print, and make just\nallowances. We others know that only a fool will pretend to say with\nabsolute confidence what a native thinks. Even in the West, where men think\naloud, and the noisy newspaper proclaims the matter on the house-top, it\ntakes a wise man to say how the popular mind is working.\n\nIndia has a larger inheritance than most other countries in sacred and\nlegendary lore of animals; but much of it has now only a literary interest,\nand but a remote connection with the actual life of the people. I have\nneither the scholarship nor the ambition to produce \"one of those learned\ncompilations which have no root in actual life, epitomise the past, and\nhave no future.\" Serious students of Zoolatry and of folk-lore in its\nscientific sense will therefore find little to interest them in chapters\nwherein a living dog is frankly preferred to a dead lion.\n\n[Illustration: BIRD SCARING]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nOF BIRDS\n\n    \"Birds, companions more unknown\n    Live beside us, but alone;\n    Finding not, do all they can,\n    Passage from their souls to man.\n    Kindness we bestow, and praise,\n    Laud their plumage, greet their lays;\n    Still, beneath the feather'd breast,\n    Stirs a history unexpress'd.\"\n\n                            MATTHEW ARNOLD.\n\n\nThe Parrot.--The parrakeet (_Pal\u00e6ornis eupatrius_) is in some regions\nbelieved to have earned the gratitude of man by its services in bringing\nthe seeds of fruit and grain from the garden of Paradise after the Flood\nand sowing them abroad on the earth for his use. Ages of shameless larceny\nhave nearly effaced the memory of that fabled feat, but the creature is\nstill tolerated, and is the familiar bird of the fields and groves as well\nas the favourite cage bird of India.\n\nThe parrot plays a leading part in many folk tales, and has thus come to be\nregarded as a guardian of domestic honour. In such ballads as \"Lord\nWilliam\" and \"May Colvine and fause Sir John,\" the popinjay's share in\nromance is shown to British readers as a curious survival, but in India we\nare nearer to the time when creatures spoke and thought, and the literary\ncuriosity of the West is still the belief of the East. The parrot is also\nreckoned an auspicious or lucky bird to have in the house. An augmentation\nof honour is its appointment as the v\u00e2han or steed of Kama or Kamdeo, a\nHindu god of love.\n\nUnfortunately for its comfort, it has a powerful beak, and quickly destroys\na wooden cage. So it is usually confined in a small dome-shaped cage of\nhoop-iron with an iron floor. During the hot season, when it is painful to\ntouch any metal surface, these cages must be cruel torture-chambers; and\nwhen one watches the free birds darting to and fro like live emeralds in\nthe sun, with the wild scream and reckless flinging of themselves on the\nair peculiar to parakeets, one cannot but grieve for the captive slowly\nroasting in his tiny oven-like prison. Leaving the general question that is\nsure to arise some day as to our right to imprison creatures for our\npleasure at all, the confinement we inflict should be at least as little\nirksome as possible; but it is hard to persuade people that creatures have\nrights, and a polite smile is the only answer to a plea for these\nprisoners.\n\n[Illustration: THE PARROT'S CAGE]\n\nHindus teach their pet birds the sacred words, Gunga R\u0101m, Rama, and Sri\nBhugw\u0101n, names of God, grateful to the Hindu ear and easy to parrot speech,\nwhile Muhammadans say Mi\u0101n Mitt\u016b, which is only a caressing name from the\nvast vocabulary of endearing nonsense in which Indian domestic life\nexcels. In Northern India a household parrot verse among Hindus is:\n\n    _Latpat, panchhi, chatur Suj\u0101n\n    Sub-ka dada Sri Bhugw\u0101n\n    Parho Gunga R\u0101m!_\n\nor roughly in English: \"Pretty bird, clever and knowing, God is the giver\nof all; say Gunga R\u0101m!\" The word here translated \"say\" means to read or\nstudy, and also to recite aloud, and is constantly used for bird song. \"My\nlark is reading very nicely this morning,\" a bird-fancier will say. \"Little\nparrot\" is a pet name for children, and \"parrot talk\" is a woman's\nexpression for their conversation when it is pretty and respectful.\n\n\"Parrot eyed\" is a common phrase for an ungrateful or deceitful person,\nnot, as might be imagined, from the expression of the bird's eyes, but\nbecause, after years of cherishing, it will fly away if the cage door is\nleft open. In spite of the opinion of my native friends, I cannot help\nthinking the phrase was derived originally from the parrot's habit of not\nlooking at the person he is supposed to be talking to; for when one thinks\nof it, a parrot's eyes have always a curiously indifferent and\n\"other-where\" kind of expression. A certain type of face is well described\nin \"a mouth like a purse, a nose like a parrot's.\" As a hero of song and\nstory this bird takes part in some domestic observances. A mother will on\nseveral consecutive days divide an almond between her parrot and her baby.\nThis will prevent the child from stammering, and make it bold and free of\nspeech. In the Punjab Him\u00e1laya there is a whimsical superstition that when\na parrot's cage hangs over the door whence a bridegroom issues to be\nmarried, it is highly auspicious, but that something dreadful will happen\nif he passes under it on any other errand. This fancy once caused some\ntrouble to a political officer of Government in charge of a Hill State. The\nyouthful Raja was to be married, and on the eve of the event, while there\nwas still much business to be done, he was inveigled into the zenana, or\nfeminine side of the palace, the inmates of which promptly hung a parrot\nover the door. It was necessary, for many and urgent reasons, to withdraw\nthe boy from his female relatives; but the little council of the State was\nsorely puzzled. It would be an awful thing to make the Raja pass under the\ncage. Could he not be brought out by some other door behind, or even fished\nup through a hole made in the roof? At last a grave old Wazir came in and\nasked with an innocent air: \"Is it quite certain that the cage is there?\"\nIt was quite certain. \"Then,\" said the old gentleman slily, \"my eyes are\ndim, for I did not see it as I passed but now.\" The Council went to see,\nwere greatly relieved to find the cage gone, and made a great pretence of\nwondering how it came about. While they were deliberating with\ncharacteristic Hindu hesitation and timidity, he had ordered a menial,\nindifferent to omens, to carry it off. So the young Raja was rescued from\nhis factious women folk and came out.\n\nThe parrakeet is often trained as a public performer. In the streets of\nDelhi I used to see one that went through gymnastic and military exercises,\nwhirling a tiny torch lighted at each end, loading and firing a small\ncannon, lying dead and coming to life again; all done with a comic air of\neagerness and enjoyment which it seemed hard to impute to mere hunger for\nthe morsels that rewarded each trick. It is seldom a bird in native hands\nspeaks really well. Orientals are easily contented, and, though they can\ntake pains in some matters, are inclined to think that parrot speech comes,\nas Dogberry said of reading and writing, by nature. The Indian bird,\nmoreover, has less natural aptitude for speech than the true parrots of\nother countries.\n\n[Illustration: A PERFORMING PARROT]\n\nThe British soldier in India, at a loss how to employ his leisure, is\nfrequently a butterfly-collector or a bird-fancier. Sometimes a stalwart\ntrooper may be seen all alone, leaning over the parapet of a well,\napparently in earnest converse with some one who has fallen in. Parrots are\nbelieved to learn to talk more readily when taught in a darkened and silent\nroom. There are no such rooms in his barracks, so the soldier lets his cage\nhalf-way down a well and spends hours in teaching his pet. The practice is\nprobably an indigenous one, but I have never seen a native engaged in it.\n\nThe Baya Bird.--As a performer of tricks, however, the parrakeet is\nexcelled by the little _baya_, the weaver bird (_Ploceus baya_). The\nplumage of this clever creature is of quaker-like simplicity, but it is a\nfavourite cage-bird and easily acquires tricks, especially of a \"fetch and\ncarry\" nature. The table servant or waiter of a friend of mine has one that\nflies to a tree at the word of command, selects a flower or leaf, plucks\nit, and, returning, places it daintily between its master's lips. Some\nthread beads with great dexterity, others draw up seed or water, like the\nEuropean goldfinch; but, judging from the skilful construction of its nest,\nit is probably more intelligent than the goldfinch. A popular rhyming\nproverb contrasts the housebuilding talent of the _baya_ bird with the\nhelplessness of the shelterless monkey, which, having human hands and feet,\nis yet incapable of protecting itself against the weather. This verse is\noften quoted for the benefit of idle boys and girls who object to learn.\nThe _baya_ is believed to light up its nest at night with captured\nfire-flies, stuck against the fibrous wall over the head of the brooding\nhen. The bird certainly catches flies, and pellets of clay are occasionally\nfound stuck on the inside of the nest, but further evidence is wanted\nbefore one can do more than envy the unquestioning belief of the Oriental\nin a charming fancy which may be true.\n\nIt is true that at nesting time play nests are made with a loop across the\nopening, on which the birds play and the male sits and sings to solace the\nfemale. Some say these are experimental or preliminary studies in the art\nof nest-weaving.\n\n[Illustration: A BIRD-SINGING MATCH (DELHI ARTISANS)]\n\nCaged Song Birds.--Working people in the cities of Northern India are\ngreat bird-fanciers, and find, as they sit for hours over their embroidery,\nweaving, or shoe-making, that a singing bird is good company. The bulbul\n(_Molpastes intermedius_), the _chend\u016bl_ or tufted lark (_Galerita\ncristata_), the Sh\u0101m\u0101 (_Cittocincla macrura_), the hill maina (_Eulabes\nreligiosa_), are most commonly seen, and there are several others. Like the\noperatives of manufacturing England, Indian workmen arrange singing matches\nbetween their birds, and enjoy sitting in groups in shady places round the\ncages in which their pets are shrilling their loudest notes. It is a cruel\nrule among them that a bird to sing well must be kept always in the dark. I\nhave heard a lark-fancier say that the cage holding a good lark should have\na fresh cloth cover every year--the old ones being allowed to remain. The\nhill maina, one of the best talking birds, however, is generally allowed\nto look about him; and the tiny lals or male avadavats (_Spor\u0153ginthus\namandava_), kept mainly for their minute prettiness, a dozen or more in a\ncage together, are not covered up except at night as a protection against\nmosquitoes. In Delhi bird-fanciers often take their birds out tied to a\nsmall crutch-shaped perch of bright brass carried in the hand. It is\ncurious that precisely the same practice obtains in Pekin, where hundreds\nof grave Chinamen may be seen, each carrying a small bird. In the English\nmidland counties linnets and bull-finches are occasionally tied to perches\nand known as \"braced birds.\"\n\nFighting Birds.--These Arcadian enjoyments are too simple for many tastes,\nso bulbuls, quails, partridges, and even the small avadavats are encouraged\nto fight. Twenty-five rupees is by no means an unusual price for a fighting\nquail, and in Hyderabad (Deccan), the capital of the Nizam, a hundred and\nfifty rupees is often given for a good bird. Besides the gray partridge\n(_Ortygornis pondicerianus_), which is the best fighting bird, the chik\u014dre\n(_Caccabis chukor_) and the black partridge (_Francolinus vulgaris_) are\nkept as pets. The house-kept artisan goes out in the cool of the morning or\nevening, carrying his cage with him, and in some garden or open place\nreleases his bird for a run. The creature follows its master with a rapid\nand pretty gait that suggests a graceful girl tripping along with a full\nskirt well held up. The Indian lover can pay his sweetheart no higher\ncompliment than to say she runs like a partridge. In poetry the semblance\nis one of the most hackneyed of Indian metaphors. In poetry, too, the\npartridge is associated with the moon, and, like the lotus, is supposed to\nbe perpetually longing for it, while the chik\u014dre is said to eat fire.\n\nIndian house-wives dislike the quail, and it is by some considered an\ninauspicious bird to keep; but the partridge, in spite of the taint of\nblackguardism attached to fighting birds, is thought lucky, for he attracts\nto himself any ill luck that may be hovering about the house,--a function\nof most Indian household pets. When treated merely as house pets and\nallowed to run free at times, partridges develop a good deal of\nintelligence and become entertaining companions, as they are inquisitive,\npugnacious, and perfectly fearless. In cities where there are large\npopulations of artisans and many Muhammadans, as Delhi, Amritsar, Lahore,\nHyderabad (Deccan), Agra, Cawnpore, etc., quail and partridge fighting is\nas popular a diversion as cock-fighting used to be in England, and large\nsums are betted on their contests. No artificial spurs, however, are worn\nby Indian birds.\n\nThe great London bird market, I am told, now that the \"Dials\" have\ndisappeared, is St. Martin's Lane on a Sunday morning. In most Indian towns\nthere are bird-dealers, and in some, as at Lucknow, there is a regularly\nestablished bird bazaar, where all kinds of birds are sold,--quails, cocks,\nand partridges for fighting, hawks for the chase, fancy pigeons, singing\nand talking birds, and others for pets. The variety is much greater than in\nany European bird market, yet there is a family likeness among\nbird-fanciers everywhere. A Spitalfields weaver or a Staffordshire potter,\nif he could speak the language, would find himself quite at home with\nIndian bird folk in all details of handling, feeding, bargaining, and\nswapping, and in most appreciations of bird points.\n\nWhat Birds say.--Good Muhammadans think the black partridge pious, since\nits call fits itself to the words \"Sobh\u0101n teri q\u016ddr\u0103t\"--\"Thine, O Lord, is\nthe power\"; but more worldly ears distinguish the words \"L\u0103ss\u0103n, pi\u0101z,\n\u0103dhr\u0103k\"--\"Garlic, onions, ginger\"; or, according to some, \"N\u016bn, tel,\n\u0103dhr\u0103k,\"--\"salt, oil, ginger,\" the chief condiments of curry. The Indian\nring-dove (_Turtur risorius_) is similarly endeared to Muhammadans by its\npious persistence in the cry \"Yusuf ku\"--\"Joseph is in the well,\" which it\nfirst raised when the wicked brethren said he was slain and showed the\ngrieving Jacob the blood-stained coat of many colours. Another dove is\nthought to say \"Allah! Allah!\" The partridge says \"Fakiri Fakiri.\" A wild\npigeon is thought to repeat \"Haq sirr hu\"--\"God knows the secret\"; the\nordinary rooster exhorts the thoughtless to remember God by crowing--\"Zikr'\nullah! Zikr' ullah! ya ghaf\u012blin!\" while the raven hoarsely cries \"Gh\u00e2r,\nGh\u00e2r,\" as he did when he basely tried to betray Muhammad hidden in the cave\nof Jebel Thaur to his enemies the Khoreish, when the pious pigeon built her\nnest and the spider stretched her webs across the entrance. It is quite\neasy to hear these words in birds' notes--when you know them--and they are\nat least as much like the original sounds as the renderings of those\nscientific ornithologists who have tried to express bird music in\nsyllables. In the notes to Mr. Lane's _Arabian Nights_ are given versions\nof bird talk as they strike Arab ears, with wondrous instances of learned\nparrots, including one which knew the Qur\u00e2n right through and corrected a\nmisreading!\n\nThe Hoopoe.--Other birds are prized for the legends with which they are\nassociated. The hoopoe (_Upupa epops_) has not much to say, but he is a\nfavourite because he was King Solomon's messenger; and he is known as the\nking of birds from the story of his crest and crown, which, perhaps, is not\ntoo hackneyed to be repeated here. One hot day King Solomon, travelling on\nhis angel-borne magic carpet, was oppressed by the heat of the sun, and the\nhoopoes flew over his head, wing to wing in a close and protecting canopy.\nSolomon was grateful, and promised to grant whatever boon the hoopoes\nthought fit to ask. They foolishly asked to be allowed to wear golden\ncrowns like his. The great king granted their request, and presently all\nthe bird-catchers in the country were enriched by the spoil of dead\nhoopoes. A remnant escaped and ruefully prayed for the removal of the\ndangerous distinction. So the crest of feathers was given instead, and the\nbird-catchers ceased from troubling. If you suggest to a native that the\nhoopoe's crest may serve as \"the other end\" of the pickaxe-like beak, and\npoint out its balancing action as the bird drives it into the ground, he\nlistens and assents, but his assent informs you he has no great opinion of\nyour sense.\n\n[Illustration: THE FAMILIAR CROW]\n\nThe Crow.--The Indian crow (_Corvus splendens_) acts as a messenger in many\nfolk stories, and is still supposed to announce approaching visitors. In a\nland where the _pitris_ or spirits of the dead are believed to be flitting\nround continually, seeking rest, and inhabiting the bodies of animals and\nbirds, it is easy to imagine the bold and familiar crow haunting houses,\npeering into windows and doors, a restless human ghost. They are often fed\nas a propitiation to spirit land. In this belief it is said that a pair of\ncrows were carried to that imperfectly quenched cinder heap, Aden, forty\nyears ago, by the Hindu labourers engaged on the fortifications there. A\nHindu who saw them says: \"The poor creatures had no trees on which to\nperch, and they wandered about from rock to rock cawing piteously.\" It is\nfirmly believed, and there is more ground for the belief than usual, that\ncrows hold _punchayets_, caste-councils or committees, and inflict summary\npunishments on offenders. It is at least certain that in India, as\nelsewhere, a maimed or disabled bird, unable to escape or hide himself, is\nset upon by his kind and killed. I once had for pensioner a lame crow,\noutcast from his fellows, but strong enough to take care of himself. This\nhabit is reported to have suggested a stratagem by which omnivorous gypsy\nfolk catch crows. A live crow is spread-eagled on his back, with forked\npegs holding down his pinions. He flutters and cries, and other crows come\nto investigate his case and presently attack him. With claws and beak he\nseizes an assailant and holds him fast. The gypsy steps from hiding, and\nsecures and pinions the second crow. These two catch two more, the four\ncatch four more, and so on, until there are enough for dinner, or to take\ninto a town, where the crow-catcher stands before some respectable Hindu's\nshop and threatens to kill the bird he holds in his hand. The Hindu pays a\nransom of a pice or two and the crow is released.\n\n[Illustration: CALF AND CROWS]\n\nWhen a child is sick, crows and other birds are bought by its mother and\nfemale relatives to be released as a propitiation.\n\nNo decent person, of course, would dine on crows, but in Northern India the\nrook is held to be _hal\u0101l_ or permitted for Mussulman food, and I have seen\nthem exposed for sale in Peshawar market.\n\nIn Bombay, rude street boys call Parsees \"crows\"--possibly a gibe at the\nParsee custom of exposing the dead in the Towers of Silence, where they are\neaten by birds.\n\nOf many sayings about the crow it may be noted that for the daw in\npeacock's feathers, they say in India of a fop, \"the crow stuck a\npomegranate flower in his tail and thought himself a mighty swell.\" Also,\n\"the crow swaggered like a swan, forgetting his own gait.\" A crow fairy or\np\u0115ri is a very dark woman. \"Krishna's name in a crow's mouth!\" and \"Though\nyou put a crow in a parrot's cage he will still caw\" express his\ninferiority. Crows and herons are counted wicked birds; the former being\nconsidered the more accomplished rascals.\n\nBut the main fact about the crow is his note, which is a ceaseless\n_obligato_ accompaniment to all Indian life. A popular cradle song crooned\nover thousands of children--_Ar\u00e9 koko, ja re koko_ = O crow! go crow--might\nbe paraphrased thus--\n\n    \"Crow, crow! silence keep,\n    Plums are ripe in jungle deep;\n    Fetch a bushel fresh and cheap\n    For a babe who wants to sleep.\n\n    \"Crow, crow! the peacock cries,\n    In the wood a thief there lies,\n    Would steal my baby from my eyes.\"\n\nAlso, they say to a child, \"If you make a noise, the crow will fly away\nwith you.\" The baby-name, or rather women's name, for crow is _koko_.\n\nAll over the world women are apt at \"stringing pretty words that make no\nsense, and kissing full sense into empty words,\" but, while acknowledging\nthe elemental rightness of \"woman talk\" as a thing apart and a portion of\nthe God-given sweetness of life, it is not too fantastical to perceive in\nthe Indian development of something like a separate language,--_chhoti\nboli_--literally little talk,--the clipped and childish speech of\nimprisoned women of starved intellect, an evidence of a great social\ndisability. Affection, common sense, and wit may be and are freely\nexpressed in this talk, and it is passing rich in endearments, but to those\nwho look below the surface, it is one sign more of the disadvantage under\nwhich the country is laid by the unnatural treatment, denial of\ninstruction, and seclusion of women. Yet, if the women of India have the\nfaults of an exaggerated domesticity, they have also its qualities, and\ntheir estate should be understood before reformers rush to meddle with it.\n\nTo most Indian women crows stand as types of knavery, and there is sound\nreason for this estimate. They are thieves, outcast scavengers, deceitful,\nand, above all other creatures that hoard and hide, clever in concealing\nthings. \"The swan (noble type) has flown away, the tiger (the king) has\nmade the crow (the knave) his minister,\" is a much-quoted verse from a\npopular tale. Some intimacy with the bird is needed before one can fairly\nappreciate this side of his character. I once reared from the nest a pair\nof hill crows,--ravens in all but size,--who lived with me for three years,\ntill one after the other they were wooed away to mate. They were miracles\nof naughtiness, delighting in sly destruction and odd turns of malice, ever\nready to peck at a servant's hurrying heel, and especially given to torment\na little dog who hated them. When he had a bone they came daintily stepping\ntogether and concerted measures against him, exactly like the stage\nvillains of melodrama, man\u0153uvring and skirmishing with keen enjoyment. On\nhis part, the dog learned to watch and rifle their hiding-places. Their\ndelight in bright objects was remarkable. The spoon in my early morning\ntea, taken in the garden or verandah, was of even more interest to them\nthan my buttered toast, and they were never tired of tugging at my\nwatch-chain in order to get out the watch, a deeply coveted plaything.\nEverything of this shining sort that came within reach was promptly buried,\ndug up again, reburied with elaborate precautions, and forgotten after a\nfew days. In the hot weather they vastly enjoyed eating and playing with\npieces of ice, which they hid for future use. But ice is a treasure\nfleeting as fairy gold, and the birds showed by the fussy action, sidelong\nsquints, and interrogative turns of the head which make them such diverting\ncomedians, how deeply they were puzzled by its disappearance. \"Surely,\nsurely,\" one would seem to say as he turned up a corner of the matting, \"I\nhid a cold chunk of shining stuff here,--but _where_ is it? Never mind, I\nwill get another.\" So he would hop up to the table and take a fresh piece\nfrom the glass finger-bowl, itself a great delight to the glitter-loving\nbirds. To the last the disappearance of the ice was a wonder. But, like\nthat of some other comedians, their conduct was generally low. The way in\nwhich they allowed themselves to be sent to bed (an old gate in an\nouthouse), though free to fly at will, pacing meekly as good as gold,\nafter a day of variegated crime, was their only lapse into real virtue.\n\nThe Roller.--The Roller (_Coracias Indica_), sometimes called in India the\nblue jay, is sacred to Vishnu, who once assumed its form, and is caught to\nbe liberated at the Hindu Dasahra festival in Western India and at the\nD\u016brga P\u016bja in Bengal. \"Undreamed-of wings he lifted,\" is a quotation always\nbrought to mind when this gray and sober-looking bird suddenly rises and\ndisplays the turquoise and sapphire-tinted splendour of his wings.\n\nThe Maina.--The Maina (_Acridotheres tristis_) is sacred to the Hindu God\nRam Deo, and sits on his hand. In stories and talk the _maina_ is a popular\nfavourite, which is natural enough, for the bird is one of the handsomest\nand most vivacious of the starlings; with an elegant tripping gait, like\nthat of a neatly built ballet-girl, alert and brave in bright yellow boots.\nIn flying, a white bar on the maina's wing produces a curious effect of\nrotation. Like crows and sparrows, these birds go to roost in great\ncompanies, and make a prodigious fuss before they settle to rest, as if\neach bird were recounting the adventures of the day and all were talking at\nonce.\n\nThe Kite.--The common Kite (_Milvus govinda_) is often spoken of by\nEuropeans as the Brahminy Kite. Naturalists reserve this name for the\nsmaller chocolate-tinted bird with white head and breast, common near\nrivers,--_Haliastur indus_. In former times the Kite was held in some\nesteem by Muhammadans as a presage of victory to the army over which it\nhovered, and called a blessed or auspicious spirit. Being an eagle in\nminiature, the Kite perhaps inherited some of the respect born of the\nancient and oft-repeated story of an eagle hovering over a future king or\nleader of men, which is told of Muhammad among many others. In recent\ntimes the landing at Boulogne of Napoleon the Last, accompanied by a tame\neagle, furnishes a quaint echo of this old world fantasy.\n\nThis beautiful creature is almost as common as the crow, and its shrill\nthin scream, from which the name _ch\u012bl_ seems to be derived, is, like the\ncrow's note, a constant and characteristic Indian sound, especially at\nCalcutta in the spring time. Those who delight in the flight of birds,\nwhich surely is one of the most fascinating things in life, may find less\ninteresting diversions than throwing fragments of food from a high roof\nwhen a fleet of swift pirates soon assembles. Missed by one, rushed at from\nopposite points by two or three at a time, no morsel is ever allowed to\nreach the ground. The fierce sweeps and curves are splendid in grace,\nstrength, and skill, for there is deliberation and poise and a marvellous\navoidance of collision in this aerial tournament of rushing wings. When the\nrains break there occurs a great jail delivery of winged white ants. At\nthis stage the termites are fat white little maggots, temporarily furnished\nwith wings which are shaken off when they find a resting-place. The birds\nassemble in great numbers for this dainty feast, the kite with the rest.\nOne would think this wide-gaping bird would sail round in the insect cloud\nopen-mouthed, whale-fashion. But he uses his claws even for this minute\ngame, and the action of carrying them to his beak as he flies produces a\nseries of most graceful curtseying undulations.\n\nThe habits of the kite have suggested one or two sayings, as: \"When do you\nfind meat in a kite's nest?\"--a Hindu sneer at Mussulman spendthrifts; when\ndo you find money in a Mussulman's house? Of a lover devoted to a gay lady\nthe same expression is used. The _p\u00e2ras_ or philosopher's stone is said in\na proverb to be in the kite's nest, a dark saying based on the kite's trick\nof sometimes carrying off gold ornaments, or on the Muhammadan women's\nsuperstition that young kites cannot see until there is gold in the nest.\nThe kite has some of the crow's delight in bright objects, and this belief\nmay be based on observation. A person who loiters round or hangs about a\nhouse is said to hover like a kite. The word \"hover,\" by the way, is, or\nused to be, common for \"wait\" in North Yorkshire, as,--\"If tha'rt titter up\nt'sprunt, hovver,\"--\"If you get first up the hill, wait.\" A Delhi\nstreet-cry raised by ragged fowlers is--\"Free the kite on Tuesday.\" The\nnotion that it is auspicious to set captured birds free has been noticed\nabove. The practice in the Delhi region is for a mother to pay a pice to\nthe fowler, who swings the kite round over her child's head and lets it go.\nThis ceremony is thought most lucky when performed on a Tuesday or\nSaturday. One of the Indian boys' games is called the kites' swoop; a\nfoolish person is styled a kite's chick, which really has a most gawky air;\nand a child always running out in the street is spoken of as a noonday\nkite, which still hovers in the heat when all sensible folk are indoors.\n\nThe kite is a notorious thief; no other creature is so splendidly equipped\nfor larceny, for no other can snatch so unerringly and escape so securely.\nThe confectioner's tray of sweetmeats, the dishes on their way from kitchen\nto mess or dining-room, the butcher's shop, and the kitchen itself are all\nliable to his sudden swoop. A recent case occurred of a registered letter\ncontaining money being snatched from a postman's hand. I was once feeding\na pair of tame ravens from a plate in my hand when a kite, to their loud\nand deep indignation, cleared and broke it and nearly knocked me over\nforbye. This habit is made in a country story to point one of the hundred\ngibes at the tricks of Indian goldsmiths. Four brethren of the craft were\noverheard by a Wazir debating their business. Said one: \"I always take four\nannas toll out of every rupee's worth of gold in addition to the labour\ncharge.\" Said another: \"I take eight annas,\" or half the value; the third\nsaid, \"I always take twelve annas,\" or three-quarters; but the fourth\ncried,--\"You are three fools, I always take all.\" The Wazir reported this\nto his Raja, who said he should like to see how it could be done. So he\nsent for that fourth goldsmith and ordered him to sit in the palace\nverandah and make a necklace for the Queen. Three or four ounces of gold\nwere given to him and he set to work. But first, he drove a nail in the\nverandah post, and when no one was near, he placed bits of meat on it and a\nkite promptly learned the way thither. Then, in the evenings when he went\nhome, he made a brass chain exactly like the gold one and put it in his pot\nof acid water. And one day in the presence of the Raja, who was on the\nwatch for deception, he placed the real chain there and presently took out\nthe false one and hung it on the nail to dry. The kite came and took it as\nthe craftsman was speaking to the Raja, who saw the theft. The goldsmith\nmade a great outcry, and bewailed the loss of so many days' labour, and the\nRaja made it up to him handsomely and gave him gold to make another. When\nthe Raja's back was turned the goldsmith fished up the real chain from the\npickling pot and carried it away. Then the goldsmith repeated the trick;\nwhich he finally confessed to the Wazir. And the Raja, being amiable, like\nmost princes in stories, was amused and generously rewarded the goldsmith\nfor his knavery.\n\nCranes and Herons.--The Sarus Crane (_Grus antigone_) is with some reason\nregarded as a model of conjugal fidelity, from a belief that, if one of a\npair of these handsome birds is killed, the other pines and never mates\nagain. A Spanish proverb says the crane danced with the horse and got a\nbroken leg, but the dancing propensities of cranes and other long-legged\nbirds are seldom noticed in Indian talk, though the birds are common and\nare often kept in public gardens and by Europeans as pets, and behave in\nthe fantastic fashion well observed and described in the American novel\n_East Angels_. (The author of that excellent book speaks of the \"candid\neyes\" that taxidermists give to stuffed parrots. Indian observation notices\na want of candour in the living parrot's eye.) For grotesque devilry of\ndancing, the Indian Adjutant beats creation. Don Quixote or Malvolio were\nnot half so solemn or mincing, and yet there is an abandonment and\nlightness of step, a wild lift in each solemn prance, which are almost\ndemoniacal. If it were possible for the most angular, tall, and demure of\nelderly maiden ladies to take a great deal too much champagne and then to\ngive a lesson in ballet-dancing, with occasional pauses of acute sobriety,\nperhaps some faint idea might be conveyed of the peculiar quality of the\nadjutant's movements. Such a conception is, of course, outrageously\nimpossible to a well-regulated Western mind, for it is only the French who\nhave thought of calling a lady a \"_grue_.\" It is notable that of late years\nCalcutta, which used to be regularly visited by adjutants, has been\ndeserted by them. I have heard natives say that they assemble in waste\nplaces to hold councils and to dance.\n\nA really fine expression is the ironical Indian phrase: \"The saintly\nheron,\" or \"saintly as a heron.\" A heron poised on one leg in a remote\ncorner of a pool is the very image of a Hindu S\u0101dhu or Muhammadan faqir,\npretending to be absorbed in holy meditation, while all the time he is\nintent on the next fish or frog that may come within reach, the next piece\nof fraud or villainy he can compass. The phrase is common, for there is\nmuch of the hypocritical \"meditation of the heron\" in India as elsewhere.\n\nPoultry.--The Brahma fowl of Western poulterers must have been named in\nEurope, and is counted one of the unclean things in which those\nunaccountable people, the English, take an unintelligible pleasure. Hindus\nhear of its name with more surprise than satisfaction. It is amusing, by\nthe way, to note the easy confidence with which French and English writers\non India use the word Brahma, and speak of his temples. There are scarcely\nany temples to Brahma in India, and his name is very seldom heard. Hindus,\nas a rule, do not care for domestic poultry which are Levitically unclean,\nnor for eggs which are not eaten by people of high caste. Rajputs are\npassionately fond of cock-fighting, but do not fit steel spurs on their\nbirds; indeed, they blunt or dub the spurs which nature has given. The\nfights are thus of interminable length, the poor creatures staggering round\neach other, blind with blood round after round, long after they are too\nmuch exhausted to strike a blow. The ring attendants fancy it restores the\ncreatures to put their heads into their mouths, a sickening detail not\nunknown in the cock-pits of our English grandfathers. The Goanese\n(Portuguese) and many Muhammadans, with some Hindus, are also fond of\ncock-fighting, and daily large sums of money change hands over this sport.\nDenunciation of a diversion of this kind is of little use, nor is it easy\nto fix a point at which legislation can effectively intervene. Little by\nlittle the barbarity will die out before the changes now taking place in\nIndian civilisation. Moreover, although we English are apt to denounce and\npreach, it does not lie in our mouths to say much. There are many\nEnglishmen who would be glad to take up cock-fighting, and it is only a\ngeneration since a large number of good husbands and tender fathers were\nready to declare it the finest sport in the world. Blake indignantly\nwrote--\n\n    \"A game-cock clipped and armed for fight,\n    Doth the rising sun affright.\"\n\nYet Professor Wilson (Christopher North), also a Christian poet, wrote of\ncock-fighting with enthusiasm, and pictures of birds thus hideously\ndisfigured are still shown in London shop windows with other sporting\nprints. Sir Thomas More is farther off, but it is recorded that he was an\nexpert in the detestable game of tying a cock to a post and throwing sticks\nat it.\n\nA cock without spurs has the same name as a tuskless elephant,--_makhna_.\nThe old Joe Miller of the roast-fowl with only one leg, of which, when the\nmaster remonstrates, the servant said it belonged to a breed of one-legged\nfowls, is also an Indian story with the same conclusion. The servant shows\nthe master a fowl standing on one leg. The master cries sho! and the fowl\nruns away with two. \"Ah,\" says the servant, \"you did not cry sho! to the\nfowl in the dish!\" Of a man who gives himself airs they say: \"Can you have\nno daylight without cock-crow?\" An Afgh\u0101n proverb quoted by Professor James\nDarmesteter says: \"Though the cock did not crow the dawn would still come.\"\n\"A hen dreams only of grain\" is applied to a sordid person. \"A whistling\nwoman and a crowing hen are neither fit for God nor men,\" is a mild English\nsaying, but the Indian version is infamous, for it says, \"A hen's crow and\na woman's word no one trusts.\" If one Hindu wants to insult another (he has\nof course an infinite variety of ways) he calls him a poulterer. A Bengal\nproverb says the Bengal landlord treats his farmer tenants as the\nMuhammadan treats fowls, feeds them only to kill them in the end. A\nMuhammadan way of expressing that one is dissatisfied with his own havings,\nis: \"A house fowl (one you have bred yourself) is no better than pulse.\" To\none who hesitates to chastise a child they say: \"The chick doesn't die from\na hen's kick.\" Domestic duties are regularly taught to the girls of a\nhousehold, so they say: \"When the hen scratches, the chickens learn.\"\n\nPoultry of all kinds are most cruelly handled by dealers and market people,\nwho never seem to think that a bird can feel. Turkeys are left to bleed to\ndeath half a day by native servants with intent to bleach the flesh. A\nHindu would be shocked by such treatment of a parrot, but fowls are outside\nthe pale of regard.\n\nThe Goose.--A bird that seems to have lost some of its ancient repute is\nthe goose, which, though sacred in Buddhist and early Hindu times, finds\nonly a vague and legendary place in modern degradations of Hinduism.\n\nThe popular legend is that the goose was the _V\u00e2han_ of Brahma, on whom\nfell the curse of Shiva, that henceforth he should not be an object of\npopular worship. The gait of the goose or the swan (for the two birds seem\nto be considered the same in the slip-shod talk of the people) is reckoned\nas next graceful to those of the elephant or the partridge. They say in\nserious praise of a lady's carriage that she walks like a goose. In Europe\nwe seem to look closer and discriminate the sort of lady with a goose gait,\nnor do we count it for praise.\n\nThe Brahminy Duck.--The note of the ruddy sheldrake or Brahminy duck\n(_Casarca rutila_) has won for this bird, which is always seen in pairs, a\nplace in Indian classic poetry as the type of longing but divided lovers.\nEvery night across the river the male cries, \"Chakvi, may I come?\" and the\nfemale responds, \"No, Chakva.\" Then the female mourns, \"Chakva, may I\ncome?\" and the answer is, \"No, Chakvi.\" (The open Indian vowel sounds give\nthe plaintive bird's cry better than the English \"May I come?\") With a\nsuper-subtle elaboration of the idea of nightly separation, the birds in\nsome verses I have heard, but cannot fully recall, are dolorously apart in\nspirit even when put in the same cage. The simile was originally good in a\npoetical sense, and is still alive to the Indian mind, which loves familiar\nand accustomed turns; but its constant recurrence gives it a mechanical\ncreak to English ears.\n\nThe Peacock.--The peacock is the _V\u00e2han_ or vehicle, of Karttikeya, a god\nof war, and also of Saraswati, goddess of learning, and is sacred. Many of\nthe troubles between villagers and English soldiers out shooting have\narisen from the ignorance of the latter of the veneration in which peacocks\nare held.\n\nIn Guzerat, throughout Rajputana, and in many parts of the Central and\nNorth-West Provinces, peacocks run wild, and are as common as rooks in\nEngland. A rhyming proverb says, \"The deer, the monkey, the partridge, and\nthe peacock are four thieves,\" but they are never punished for their\nthefts. They are, however, sometimes caught alive by out-caste jungle folk\nand brought to market with their eyes sewn up with filaments of their own\nquills in order to prevent them fluttering and spoiling their plumage.\nSolomon rebuked the vanity of the peacock's tail by an ungenerous and not\nparticularly apt reference to the ugliness of its legs, and his gibe is\nstill in men's mouths. They are in reality good legs, strong and capable;\nbut it is said, \"The peacock danced gaily, till he saw his legs, when he\nwas ashamed and wept bitterly.\" In some places this saying is accounted for\nby a story. The peacock and the partridge, or, as some say, the maina, had\na dancing match. In those days the peacock had very pretty feet. So when he\nhad danced, the partridge said, \"Lend me your feet and see _me_ dance.\"\nThey changed feet, but instead of dancing, the deceitful partridge ran away\nand never came back again. The saying is used as an expression of regret\nfor a foolish bargain. Ancient European bestiaries say when the peacock\nwakes it cries and mourns its lost beauty. In Assam they say with reference\nto vain people: \"If I must die, I must die, but don't touch my top-knot,\nsaid the peacock.\" Women when they dislike a sister woman call her a\npeacock-legged person, and sometimes after sickness speak of their own\nlimbs in humorous disparagement as like those of the peacock, where an\nEnglish countrywoman would refer to pipe-stems or bean-sticks. Yet \"peacock\ngaited\" is a poetical expression for a graceful carriage, and \"a neck like\na peacock\" is a common compliment to a beautiful woman.\n\nThe peacock is credited with a violent antipathy to snakes, and is said to\ndance them to death, but a vigorous cobra is scarcely likely to be tired\nout by a bird. In the excitement of a fight the peacock would probably\ndance round its enemy, and the engagement would be long and doubtful. That\nthe bird is a recognised enemy of snakes in England as well as in India is\nshown in the interesting volume _On Surrey Hills_, edited by Mrs. J. A.\nOwen, where gardens and grounds infested by vipers are said to be\ninfallibly cleared by peacocks.\n\nThis bird is said to scent the coming rain, and to scream and dance with\ndelight at its approach. \"Frogs and peacocks are refreshed by the rain.\" In\nEurope the bird's cry is a rain sign, but we do not credit it with a\nlonging for moisture.\n\nIn London drawing-rooms peacock feathers are considered unlucky. In India\nit would seem to be otherwise. I once saw a Hindu servant limping round\nwith a peacock feather tied on his leg. \"Yes, sir, I have a bad pain in my\nleg and this is very good for it.\" A spell or _mantra_ must have\naccompanied the tying, but this I was not privileged to learn. _Taus_, the\nArabic (and Greek) word for a peacock, is current as well as the Hindi\n_Mor_. A pretty form of guitar, shaped and painted like a peacock, is known\nas a taus.\n\nThe Owl.--There are birds of evil as well as of good omen, and the owl is\nhere, as elsewhere, a byword of ill luck. \"Only owls live alone,\" is a\nproverb flung at unsociable people, and a man is said to be as drunk as an\nowl, while a stupid fellow is most unjustly described as \"A son of an owl.\"\nOf humble folk and their obscure lives it is said, \"Only an owl knows the\nworth of an owl.\" \"What does a ph\u0153nix know of an owl?\" It has not occurred\nto the Oriental jester to speak of a boiled owl in connection with\nintoxication, but when a husband is abjectly submissive to his wife her\nfriends say she has given him boiled owl's flesh to eat. There are owls of\nmost varieties in India, but a small owl like the cue owl of Italy is the\nmost common and raises a cheerful chuckle at twilight.\n\nIn Ceylon the cry of a large owl known as the Devil bird is believed to be\na certain herald of death. Nocturnal habits are all that the universal\nworld, including Hindus and Muhammadans, can bring against the owl as a\nbird of fate. In India, however, though the owl's cry may be dreaded as\nportending a desolate home, nobody is idiotic enough to kill so valuable a\nvermin destroyer. That pinnacle of stupidity is the exclusive right of\nEnglish game preservers.\n\nThe Pigeon.--The pigeon, the bird of Mecca, is almost as much a Hindu as a\nMuhammadan bird, and was chosen by Shiva, the third person of the Hindu\nTrinity, for Incarnation as Kapoteshwara. I was assured not long ago by a\nHindu devotee that in a small temple near the Kashmir frontier, the image\nof Mahadeo at times takes life as a pair of pigeons which flutter and\ndisappear in the roof. In cities where Hindus preponderate, large flocks of\npigeons are regularly fed by Hindu merchants and shopkeepers. The traveller\nis reminded, by the roar of their wings, of Venice and Constantinople, and\nif he went farther north he would find them cherished in the villages of\nK\u0101bul, where they are supposed to pay for their keep by fertilising the\nsoil. Pigeon fanciers are to be found in most towns of Northern India and\nare generally Muhammadan. They talk of various breeds, and especially\nprize the Shir\u0101zi and the small strutting white fan-tail, on whose\ncoral-coloured legs they frequently fasten jingling bangles of brass; but\nthey seem to have little of the English skill and care in breeding\nvarieties which Darwin found so full of suggestion. The flight is pretty to\nwatch; it is possible to bet on some incidents of it, and it is also\npossible to beguile some of a neighbour's to join your own flock. But, like\nquail fighting, it is not considered a respectable pursuit; and though most\nboys would like to keep pigeons, respectability is in India as stony and\nimplacable as in the West. A popular proverb says the housewife keeps the\nparrot, the lover keeps the avadavat, and the thief keeps pigeons. In the\nEnglish Midlands, thirty years ago, pigeon-flyers were (and are still)\ncalled disreputable, and you were supposed to be able to distinguish the\nscamp from his respectable fellow-workmen by the drake's-tail curl of his\nhair at the back, the result of continually looking aloft at his birds. It\nis curious that precisely the same notion obtains here in India.\n\nAlthough the \"homing\" propensity of the pigeon is not systematically\ncultivated and the bird is not regularly employed as a messenger, there are\nmany stories to show that this characteristic trait is recognised. Nor are\nthey always sentimental love tales. A Bengal legend tells the pitiful fate\nof a Hindu Raja, the last of his race, attacked by Muhammadan invaders. He\nwent bravely out to meet them, carrying with him a pigeon whose return to\nthe palace was to be regarded by his family as an intimation of his defeat,\nand a signal to put themselves to death and to burn their home. He gained\nthe victory, but while he stooped to drink in the river after the fatigues\nof the battle, the bird escaped and flew home. The Raja hurried after, but\nwas only in time to throw himself on the still burning pyre.\n\nA common object on the low sky-line of Indian towns of the plain is a light\nbamboo lattice about six feet square on the top of a tall bamboo pole. This\nis a pigeon perch, and in the early mornings unkempt pigeon-flyers are seen\non the house roofs waving a lure made of rag tied to a stick and whistling\nthrough a mouth-call (like that of the English Punch and Judy men) to\nattract to their roosts the flock of pigeons circling overhead. The\nevolutions of pigeons in the air, their wheeling and turning on the wing,\nand the pretty manner of their settling from flight are all so beautiful\nthat it seems stupid to associate a taint of human blackguardism with them.\n\nThe Koel.--We English call the cuckoo a blithe newcomer and a vernal\nharbinger, but we do not, because of the bird's association with the sweet\no' the year, consider his song the perfection of all music. A Western ear\nfinds no more in the tune of that cuculine bird, the Koel (_Eudynamys\nhonorata_) than a tiresome iteration of one or two clear, high, and\nresonant notes. Yet Oriental poetry, algebraic in its persistent use of a\nlimited number of symbols, has officially adopted the Koel as the figure\nfor exquisite sound; so the voice of your beloved, the performances of a\nmusical artiste, and all best worth hearing in life are posted under this\nheading. A Delhi shoemaker or a Lucknow embroiderer can tell you of other\nbird music, but they have not read much classic poetry and hear with their\nears. The Englishman in India has a grudge against the Koel; listening with\nmodified rapture to notes that warn him to put up his punkah, overhaul his\nthermantidote, and prepare for the long St. Laurence penance of an Indian\nsummer. And he thinks longingly of an English spring.\n\n    \"Ah! Koel, little Koel, singing on the _siris_ bough,\n    In my ears the knell of exile your ceaseless bell-like speech is,\n    Can you tell me aught of England or of spring in England now?\"\n\nNatives say crows hate the Koel because it selects their nests for its\nfoundling eggs, which is very probable. I have seen crows mobbing a Koel,\nbut then crows are like London street boys, and will mob anybody of\nunfamiliar aspect.\n\nThe Coppersmith.--The Coppersmith bird is another noisy herald of spring.\nThis is the handsome crimson-breasted barbet (_Xanthol\u00e6ma h\u00e6macephala_),\nand its cry of tock, tock, fills the air as completely as the sound of a\nhammer on a brazen vessel. It has the same cadence, and with each loud beat\nthe bird's head is swung to right and left alternately. Sir Edwin Arnold in\nhis _Light of Asia_ gives an Indian Spring picture in a few words:--\n\n    \"... In the mango-sprays\n    The sun-birds flashed; alone at his green forge\n    Toiled the loud Coppersmith....\"\n\nBut when you are down with fever and headache you heartily wish the noisy\nbird would take a holiday or go on strike.\n\nThe Sparrow.--To the native of India the sparrow seems to stand as the type\nof a thing of naught, an intrusive feathered fly to be brushed aside--but\non no account to be starved or harmed. Our bird is a size smaller than his\nWestern brother, and is tolerated both by Hindu and Muhammadan. In mosque\ncourts one sometimes sees pretty troughs made of brick with divisions for\nwater and food; and in trees near shrines, or over the places where\ndevotees sit, earthen saucers are slung with food and water, all for the\nsparrow. A Hindu proverb quoted in Fallon's Dictionary says: \"God's birds\nin God's field! eat, birds, eat your bellies full.\" This pious and kindly\nword is easily reconciled in practice with a just appreciation of the\nessential triviality and impertinence of the bird. A large toll is daily\ntaken all over the country from field and garden, and the equally\naccessible grain-dealer's basket. The most devout Hindu alive waves them\noff from his stores, for he also must live.\n\n[Illustration: TERRA-COTTA SEED AND WATER TROUGH (FROM A PUNJAB VILLAGE\nMOSQUE)]\n\nBut though the sparrow is a nuisance, it is seldom you hear the bird\nreckoned a downright plague, as is undoubtedly the case in America, where\nit is a type of the worst kind of immigrant from which the country has\nsuffered. The reason may be that the same law of protection which leaves\nthe sparrow free to plunder, is also extended to the hawk, the shrike, the\nweasel, and the wild cat, who keep the balance fairly even among them. Yet\nwhen you listen closely you may hear, in spite of the vast Oriental\ntolerance, many an angry word about bird depredations.\n\nLondon sparrows are said to be familiar, but when compared with their\nIndian brethren, their manners are marked by dignity and cold reserve.\nBeing much given to marriage, they make a tremendous fuss over their\nhousekeeping, and when in search of a nesting-place nothing is sacred to\nthem. Above all, the nest must be sheltered from the heat, and the coolest\nplaces in the land are the interiors of men's houses. An Englishman's house\nis the coolest of all, so newly-joined couples, conversing loudly, are\nconstantly finding their way indoors, creeping like mice through bath-water\nchannels and under the bamboo blinds that keep out flies, bringing with\nthem straw and other rubbish for their untidy beds. When making a morning\ncall, you may stumble into a darkened drawing-room to find the lady of the\nhouse perched on a chair, madly thrashing up to the roof-beams with a\ncarriage-whip, while a servant pulls the long cord of an upper window,\ncrying \"sho!\" A bird in church is a rare and delightful incident to a bored\nchild in the West, but the Indian sparrow perches on the organ-pipes in\nfull blast, and chatters loudly through the sermon. Its note is a constant\npart of the out-door orchestra of Indian life, accompanying the caw of the\ncrow, the thin squeal of the squirrel and scream of the kite, the groan of\nthe Persian wheel, the wailing song of the ox-driver at the well, the creak\nof the ungreased cart axle, and the bark of the village dog.\n\nFalconry.--Falconry, which is still a favourite sport in Sind and Northern\nIndia, is too extensive to be more than glanced at. The literature of the\nsubject is just as fantastic as the writings of our forefathers in Europe;\nas in our old falconry books, hawks are broadly described as light or\ndark-eyed, round or long-winged, noble or ignoble, and the sport is\nconsidered in the highest degree aristocratic. Sir Richard F. Burton is the\nonly English writer who can claim to be an authority on the subject in its\nliterary as well as in its practical aspect. The identity of the Indian\napparatus of the sport with that of Europe strikes even the uninstructed.\nThe hawk-hood of soft deerskin, prettily embroidered with silk and gold,\nthe falconer's gloves, jesses, lures, and hawk-bells are still regularly\nmade in the Punjab, with one or two trifling variations. European pictures\nshow the lure fitted with portions of a bird's wing, which are absent from\nthe Indian lure, and the falconer goes afield with his hawks perched on a\nhoop slung round his body, while here, when more than one are carried, they\ntravel on a horizontal pole. Staying once at the chief town of a native\nstate I wondered at the number of hawks carried about, and concluded that\nwhen a man wanted an excuse for a stroll he went to the Raja's mews and got\na hawk to take out for an airing on his wrist. (\"A man looks so fond\nwithout a dog\" said the collier in Mr. C. Keene's _Punch_ picture.) During\na gathering of chiefs at Lahore to meet Lord Dufferin and the Duke of\nConnaught, falcons and falconers came to swell the retinues of the Rajas,\nand I observed the constables on duty at the museum in my charge wanted to\nmake the men leave their hawks outside when they came to see that\ninstitution. A stuffed bird in a glass case might, of course, tempt a\nhawk, but when hooded the creature is as well behaved as a sleeping child.\n\n[Illustration: UNHOODED]\n\nThe attendant circumstance of Indian falconry is not without its charm,\nespecially during the clear cold weather of the Punjab winter. I remember\nriding to a hawking party across a wide sandy plain where cultivation was\nscanty, a fresh wind blowing, and in the far distance the snowy range of\nthe Him\u00e1laya sparkled white against the intense blue. A group of elephants,\nwith howdahs and trappings blazing in colour and gold, furnished the vast\nwind-swept spaces with a touch of colour, and even the blue and red\npatterns daubed on their gigantic foreheads looked delicate and pretty. The\nstrange heraldic monsters in beaten silver with glass eyes that supported\nthe howdahs, and the great red cloths splashed with gold embroidery, would\nhave been garish at close quarters; but here they suited perfectly with the\ncavalcade of horsemen attired in scarlet and gold, the leashed dogs\nstraining and snarling, and the motley crowd of beaters, chill in the\nmorning sunshine. The hawks sharply turned their heads in expectation,\ntugging and straining at their jesses like anchored ships in a gale. But\nwhen all was over, the bustards found and flown at had escaped without\nscathe, and one of the hawks was lost. As a man who has never been able to\nfind pleasure in the chase, and who never possessed a gun, I found no\npersonal fault with this issue, but when people set forth to do a thing\nthey ought to do it well.\n\nHawks must often be lost; for a countryside proverb about kangni, the small\nItalian millet, says that its cultivation is \"as risky as keeping a hawk.\"\n\nI have heard of flights where the hawk does all that is set down for him in\nthe books, and I have watched the careful training of hawks to come back to\nthe lure, where they are rewarded with a bit of newly killed crow, etc.,\nbut I strongly suspect the best of the business is the riding and the\ncompany. Any one in the habit of looking at birds in India may see free\nhawking enough,--the shrike, which in a town garden brings down a sparrow\nnearly as big as himself, the gallant and tigerish sparrow-hawk, and on far\nhillsides falcons of two or three kinds.\n\nOf a sponging hanger-on they say, \"You train your hawk on another man's\nfist.\" \"Doesn't know cock-fighting and has taken to hawking!\" is a good\njape at a common kind of fool.\n\nBird Crumbs.--An odd fancy is current about the sandpiper. It is believed\nto sleep on its back under the impression that it is supporting the\nfirmament with its slender legs. There are human bipeds who think\nthemselves almost as necessary to the universe. A black-and-white\nkingfisher is called the dizzy or giddy one from its sudden, vertiginous\nplunge into the water after its prey. A curious parallel in nomenclature is\nshown in the water-wagtail, which haunts brook and pond sides,--places\nwhere clothes are washed,--and is called the _dhobin_ or washer-woman. In\nFrance the same bird, from the same habit, is known as the _lavandi\u00e8re_.\n\nThe Shia Muhammadans have woven many legends round their martyr heroes,\nHussain and Hassan, slain at Kerbela. The handsome King crow or drongo\n(_Dicrurus ater_) is said to have brought water to the dying Im\u00e2m Hussain,\nwhile the dove, dipping her beak in his sacred blood, flew to Medina, and\nthus bore the news of his martyrdom.\n\nIn Mr. F. S. Growse's translation of the R\u0101m\u0101yana of T\u016blsi Dass--a book\nwhich ought to be studied by those who care to know what the best current\nHindu poetry is like, in its sugared fancy, its elaborate metaphors, its\nreal feeling for the heroic and noble, and also its tedious, unaccidented\nmeandering--there occurs a pretty description of the Army of Love, in which\nsome of the birds take parts outside the stereotyped roles occasionally\nreferred to in foregoing paragraphs--\"the murmuring cuckoos are his\ninfuriated elephants, and the herons his bulls, camels, and mules; the\npeacocks, _chukors_ (red-legged partridges), and parrots are his\nwar-horses; the pigeons and swans his Arab steeds; the partridges and\nquails his foot-soldiers; but there is no describing the whole of Love's\nhost.\" A sentence which might have stood at the beginning closes the\nlong-drawn description--\"His (Love's) greatest strength lies in woman: any\none who can escape her is a mighty champion indeed.\"\n\nBats.--Of bats--the leathern-winged jackals of the air--there is not much\nto be said, for although India has an immense number and variety of these\nwonderful and most useful creatures, the people seem scarcely to notice\nthem. It takes a naturalist to admire and appreciate darkness-loving\nanimals; and among Indian bats there is a fine field, especially those\nadorned by nature with elaborate leaf-like processes on the nostrils,\nstrange and fantastic beyond telling.\n\nThose, however, who have been received in dull houses will enjoy the fine\nirony of a saying which runs, \"The bat had a guest (and said), 'I'm\nhanging, you hang too.'\" No need to expound this five-word jewel, since\nmost of us know houses whose inmates seem to hang in a torpid row, and\nwhere we resign ourselves on entering to be hung up in a similar sleepy\nfashion. There is also a story about Solomon, the birds, and the bats, but\nit has no very effective point. I know of no saying in any tongue\nacknowledging the great utility of the bat in keeping down an excess of\ninsect life.\n\nThe large fruit-eating bat or flying-fox is a noble creature, looming\nlargest, perhaps, when in the still breathless evenings he beats his\nnoiseless way high over the wan waters of Bombay harbour or the adjacent\ncreeks, dark against a sky in which there lingers a lurid flush of crimson\nand orange. The lowest castes eat flying-foxes, which are probably of\nexcellent flavour, seeing they grow fat on the best of the fruit. They are\nregularly eaten in the Malay Archipelago, and Mr. Wallace says that when\nproperly dressed they have no offensive fumet, and taste like hare. I once\nkept one, but he could scarcely be called an amusing pet, his strong point\nbeing his enormous appetite for bananas. On one occasion he escaped and\nbegan to fly away, but promptly came back, for he was mobbed by flights of\ncrows, who had never seen such a creature before. Crows go early to bed,\nand the appearance of this monster bat in their own daylight seemed to be\nan outrage on their rights and feelings. So they chivied him--if I may be\nallowed the expression--much as the street boys are said to have chivied\nJonas Hanway when he appeared in London streets with the first umbrella.\nThe flying-fox was in a great fright, knowing that a single stroke of a\ncrow's beak would ruin the membrane of his vans, more delicate than any\nsilk ever stretched on a \"paragon\" frame.\n\nIn pairing time flying-foxes are lively all day, though they do not fly\nabroad, and the trees in which they hang in great reefs and clusters are so\nnoisy with their quarrelling, screaming, and fighting, as to be a serious\nnuisance to a quiet village.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nOF MONKEYS\n\n    \"His hide was very mangy, and his face was very red,\n    And ever and anon he scratched with energy his head.\n    His manners were not always nice, but how my spirit cried\n    To be an artless _Bandar_ loose upon the mountain side!\"\n\n                                                          R. K.\n\n[Illustration: MONKEY GOD]\n\n\nSome of the respect in which these animals are held by Hindus is a\nreflection of the popularity of Hanum\u0101n, or (in Southern India) of M\u00e2ruti,\nthe monkey general of the great Hindu epic--the devoted henchman of Ram\nChandra, and a marvel of valour and address combined with gentleness. He\nhas now become a god, and is one of the most widely worshipped of Hindu\ndeities. Pictures and rude images are to be seen of him everywhere, but he\nis not represented in the more ancient Hindu sculptures. A notion exists\namong Hindus that the English may be his descendants through a female\nservant of the demon king, who had charge of Sita in captivity, and who\ntreated the prisoner so well that Rama blessed her, prophesying that she\nshould become the mother of a race that would possess the land, and whom\nHanum\u0101n took to wife. This can scarcely be made out from the poem, but the\ntradition exists. Others, again, say that the English came from the \"monkey\narmy,\" which unlovely phrase is occasionally used to describe the British\nnation.\n\nBut, while the enthusiastic cult of Hanum\u0101n as a divinity is a\ncomparatively modern development of Hinduism, the fondness of Hindus for\nmonkeys is of very ancient date. \u00c6lian describes the offerings of rice\nwhich are still customary, and at sacred places, as Benares, Ajodhia, and\nMuttra, they are regularly fed, and it is regarded as an abominable act of\nsacrilege to kill one. A large temple at Benares under the invocation of\nDurga (Devi, Kali, etc.) has swarms of monkeys attached to it, but they do\nnot appear, as might be expected, to be usually attendant on shrines of the\nMonkey God himself. They naturally cluster round groves frequented by\ndevotees of various kinds for the sake of scraps of food which they are\nsure to receive there, and because they are safe from molestation.\nMuhammadan saints as well as Hindu _s\u00e2dhus_ show kindness to these\ncreatures, and it is quite intelligible that their gambols should serve to\namuse the large and languid leisure of professional holiness.\n\n[Illustration: LANG\u016aRS AT HOME]\n\nThe brown _macacus rhesus_ is the commonest type and most frequently seen\nboth in the hills and plains. \u00c6lian in his description mixes up the Macaque\nwith the true Hanum\u0101n, the tall, long-tailed, black-faced, white-whiskered\n_lang\u016br_ (_Presbytes illiger_), clad in an overcoat of silver gray. The\nlatter has a face that reminds one of Mr. Joel Harris's \"Uncle Remus,\" and\nis, in his way, a king of the jungle, nor is he so frequently met with in\nconfinement as his brown brother. In some parts of India troops of lang\u016brs\ncome bounding with a mighty air of interest and curiosity to see the\nrailway trains pass, their long tails uplifted like notes of interrogation;\nbut frequently, when fairly perched on wall or tree alongside, they seem to\nforget all about it, and avert their heads as you go by with an affectation\nof languid indifference. This may be a mark of the superiority of the\nmonkey mind, or a sign that some threads were dropped when its fabric was\nwoven. The black gibbon or _hooluck_ (_hylobates hooluck_) is better known\nin Bengal and Assam, and is well adapted for captivity, if a pair can be\nsecured, and the keeper does not object to a gentle, mournful, and timid\nanimal, the spirit of the complaining dove in the form of a black djinn or\ndemon with a voice like a pack of hounds in full cry. The hooluck is\nmonogamous, and seems to have few of the vulgar monkey vices, but is a\ndepressing companion. In Assam, too, is found a dainty little monkey\nfamiliarly known as \"the shame-faced one\"--a gentle, bashful, large-eyed\ncreature, with a quaint trick of hiding its face in its hands and hanging\nits head like a timid child. It has a peculiarly soft and lustrous pelage\nof fine colour and texture.\n\nUnder a benign rule of protection the monkey increases rapidly, and, being\na daring and mischievous pilferer, becomes a serious nuisance. One may hold\na creature sacred and yet be thoroughly alive to all the faults of its\ncharacter, and the monkey in ordinary talk is used pretty much as it is in\nEurope to point morals against wanton mischief, helplessness, and evil\nbehaviour generally. Nor is it only in field and garden that its\ndepredations are felt. Indian shops have no doors or windows, but are like\nlarge cupboards open to the street, in which food grains and other articles\nare exposed for sale; and in towns where Hindus preponderate and a busy\ncurrent of trade has not swept the streets, bulls, calves, parakeets,\nsparrows, and monkeys take tolls which the dealer would fain prevent, but\nthat he is few and fat, while the depredators are many and active. A stout\ngrocer nodding among his store baskets, while a monkey, intently watching\nthe sleeper's face, rapidly stuffs his cheek pouches with grain, is a\ncommon sight, as well as a comical one. Of late years the tradesmen who\nform the bulk of the members of our municipalities have felt that there\nare too many Hanum\u0101ns abroad, and have ventured on proceedings that would\nnot have been tolerated in the days of complete Brahmanical ascendency.\nNumbers of the marauders have been caught, caged, and despatched on bullock\ncarts to places many miles distant. There they have been let loose, but, as\nthe empty carts returned, the monkeys, quick to perceive and defeat the\nplan of their enemies, bounded gaily alongside, and trooped in through the\ncity gates with the air of a holiday party returning from a picnic. From\nsome river-side towns boat-loads have been taken across the Ganges; but\nthey dislike being marooned, and when they have failed to board the\nreturning boats, have found others to carry them back. Railways, which have\ndone much for Indian progress, offer facilities for deportation which\nmonkey-ridden municipalities have been glad to seize. The stationmaster at\nSaharunpore was recently troubled by a telegram advising him of the\ndespatch of cars laden with monkeys, which he was requested to send out to\nbe freed on the adjacent Sewalik hills. But the cages were broken in\nunloading the freight and the crowd got loose. Saharunpore is an Indian\nCrewe or Swindon in a small way, with a railway establishment, a Government\nBotanical garden and large private fruit gardens. The exiles invaded the\nbusy workshops and lost their tempers, monkey fashion, among the driving\nbands and machinery, nor were they easily driven out. A large male was seen\npulling the point-levers of a siding with the sudden petulance of his kind;\nand another established himself between the double roofs of one of the\ninspection carriages used by railway officers on tour as houses, stealing\nfrom the pantry such trifles as legs of mutton, corkscrews, lamp glasses\nand dusters,--articles for which a monkey can have but little use. The bulk\nof the company trooped into the gardens of the town, where the proprietors,\nbeing mainly Muhammadans with no respect for Hanum\u0101n, took measures of\ntheir own against the invasion.\n\nAn amusing case of monkey plunder occurred some years ago at Simla. The\nchief confectioner of the place had prepared a magnificent bride-cake,\nwhich was safely put by in a room that, like most Simla rooms, looked on\nthe steep hillside. It is of little use, however, locking a door when the\nwindow is left open. So when they came to fetch the cake, the last piece of\nit was being handed out of the window by a chain of monkeys who had\nwhitened the hillside with its fragments. A theft of this kind is mainly\nmischievous, for the wild monkey dislikes food mixed with butter, nor does\nhe greatly care for sugar. A bride-cake, too, looks (and is to my humble\ntaste) about as edible as a plaster cast, and one can scarcely understand\nhow they discovered it was meant to be eaten. The creature has a passion\nfor picking things to pieces. A flower or a fragile toy will amuse a monkey\nfor a long time. If a bird falls into its hands it will not be released\ntill it is plucked of every feather. If the bird resents the process, the\nmonkey with an unconcerned air rubs its head vigorously on the ground. It\nwould not be difficult to train a monkey to pluck fowls for use in the\nkitchen. It is often said that the monkey kills snakes by grinding the head\non a stone, occasionally spitting on it, nor is the feat incredible to one\nwho has observed the constant habit of rubbing things on the ground and\nholding them up for inspection. Yet in spite of this belief, a popular\nsaying, expressing a dilemma or an opportunity that cannot be turned to\nprofit, is--\"Like a snake in a monkey's hand.\" He is afraid of it, but he\nwill not let go. Natives also say that monkeys rob birds' nests and destroy\neggs and young in pure malice. The fastidiousness of the wild monkey's\ntaste is curious, considering the precarious existence it leads. Daily for\nsome months my family and myself were interested in a troop of wild\nmonkeys, which we regularly fed, trying them with very various food. Once\nwe gave them biscuits which, from lying in a dealer's shop, had acquired\nthat peculiarly stale, tinny flavour which Anglo-Indians know too well.\nThey had been accustomed to eat the same kind of biscuit when fresh, and\nscrambled as usual for the fragments, but after the first bite they made\ncomical mouths of dislike, spat out vigorously, rubbed the biscuit on their\nsides, on the ground, examined it carefully, and seemed to conclude,--\"Yes,\nit's the same as yesterday,\" tried again, and then chattered and grinned in\nwrath and disgust. But they soon learned to discriminate by smell merely.\n\nLike the over-wise crow, which is apt to outwit itself by futile cunning,\nthe monkey is most ingeniously suspicious. Our friends grew bold with\nencouragement, but their manners were never friendly; with the exception of\none which had evidently escaped from confinement. We managed to entrap the\ncreature, and having removed its hateful collar, set it free again. My\ndaughter could coax this experienced person into a room and it would open\nher hand to take grain, keeping a sharp look-out on the open door. All the\nrest were keenly suspicious, and irritable. They seemed to circumvent each\nmorsel and, having won it, defied us with angry eyes to take it back\nagain, regarding our free gift as a triumph of their own finesse. This is\nnatural enough when we consider that for generations the monkey folk have\nbeen chased from field and garden plot with shouting. They were in no fear\nfor their lives, and had learned the very human satisfaction of defying an\nenemy from a safe distance.\n\nThis shallow cunning has deeply impressed the minds of the people. They say\nit is absolutely impossible to poison a monkey. For ages this belief has\nbeen rooted in the minds of Orientals. Al Masudi, who compiled his Arabic\nencyclop\u00e6dia--\"meadows of gold and mines of gems\"--in the tenth century,\nwrote that most Chinese and Hindu kings keep wise but dumb monkeys as\ntasters for their tables, relying implicitly on their judgment of what is\npoisoned and what is wholesome. A native gentleman told me of a cultivator\nin the hills whose crops and garden were so seriously injured that he\ndetermined to get rid of his enemies. So he daily set out platters of\nboiled rice which they greedily ate. When they had learned the habit of\ncoming in crowds, he one day set out rice poisoned with a tasteless drug.\nHe heard a great chatter and whining round his treacherous platters, and\nsaw a council sitting round the untasted food in earnest debate. Presently\nthey rose and scampered away, but soon returned, each bearing twigs and\nleaves of a plant which their instinct taught them was an antidote to the\npoison. With these they stirred and mixed the rice, which they afterwards\nate with their usual relish, returning the next morning for more,\nabsolutely unharmed. This story is also told, _mutatis mutandis_, of an\nattempt made by a Sikh noble, Sirdar Lehna Singh Majithia, to poison\ntroublesome monkeys at the sacred town of Hurdwar. When you believe that\nmonkeys are capable of speech and only refrain from speaking for fear that\nthey would be made to work, it is easy to credit them with a knowledge of\nchemistry. Belief in their ability to speak is widely current in India, and\nthe notion is not unknown in the West.\n\nBut while native credulity will swallow the impossible with ease, native\nobservation is not without keenness. The inability of the monkey to make\nfor itself a shelter against the heavy rains of the country is noted in\nproverbs. It is really curious that in the Simla region, where are many\nbuilt-out roads forming dry refuges of quite natural aspect, they are never\nresorted to. Troops of monkeys will sit shivering for hours in driving\nstorms within a few yards of covered spaces, which seem as if specially\nprovided for their shelter and comfort.\n\nTheir daily life is interesting to watch. The scheme seems to be\npatriarchal with a touch of military organisation, for they move and\nplunder in a sort of formation, and the patriarch is at once\ncommander-in-chief and effective fighting force. Its main fact is the\ntyranny of the leading male of each troop, who grows to a great size, with\nimmensely powerful shoulders. He develops large canine teeth, which some\nobservant Hindu draughtsmen take care to grace their pictures of Hanum\u0101n\nwithal. These are used unsparingly on the younger male members of the\ntroop, in fighting for his place of power, and on disobedient females. \"The\ndemon\" was the familiar name we gave to a leader with whom we were well\nacquainted. He seemed to be always angry and was easily moved to a paroxysm\nof rage, when he used worse language than any permitted to man, for there\nwas a savage force and variety in his grunting fury which made one\nthankful he was untranslatable. He took the lion's share of everything,\nespecially resenting that the rising bachelors of the troop should have a\nchance. Mothers and babies were merely cuffed aside from a morsel, but\nthere was ruthless war between him and all who might become his rivals. No\nmore perfect picture of headlong, desperate terror can be imagined than a\nyoung man-monkey plunging and bounding in reckless flight down the\nhillside, pursued as he screams by a livid and grunting elder. Natives may\nwell call the monkey sire _Maharaja_, for he is the very type and\nincarnation of savage and sensual despotism. They are right, too, in making\ntheir Hanum\u0101n red, for the old male's face is of the dusky red you see in\nsome elderly, over-fed, human faces.\n\nLike human Maharajas, they have their tragedies and mayhap their romances.\nOne morning there came a monkey chieftain, weak and limping, having\nevidently been worsted in a severe fight with another of his own kind. One\nhand hung powerless, his face and eyes bore terrible traces of battle, and\nhe hirpled slowly along with a pathetic air of suffering, supporting\nhimself on the shoulder of a female,--a wife, the only member of his clan\nwho had remained faithful to him after his defeat. We threw them bread and\nraisins, and the wounded warrior carefully stowed the greater part away in\nhis cheek pouch. The faithful wife, seeing her opportunity, sprang on him,\nholding fast his one sound hand, and opening his mouth she deftly scooped\nout the store of raisins. Then she sat and ate them very calmly at a safe\ndistance, while he mowed and chattered in impotent rage. He knew that\nwithout her help he could not reach home, and was fain to wait with what\npatience he might till the raisins were finished. It was a sad sight, but,\nlike more sad sights, touched with the light of comedy. This was probably\nher first chance of disobedience or of self-assertion in her whole life,\nand I am afraid she thoroughly enjoyed it. Then she led him away,--possibly\nto teach him more salutary lessons of this modern and \"advanced\" sort, so\nthat at the last he would go to another life with a meek and chastened\nsoul.\n\nMonkey mothers are tender to their little ones, with a care that endears\nthem to the child-loving Oriental. The babies are quaint little mites with\nthe brown hair that afterwards stands up crest-wise, parted in the middle\nof their brows; their wistful faces are full of wrinkles, and their mild\nhazel eyes have a quick glancing timidity, that well suits their pathetic,\nlost, kitten-like cry. Yet even in the forest there are frisky matrons. I\nhave seen a mother monkey, disturbed in her gambols on the ground by the\nwhining of a tiny baby left half-way up an adjacent tree, suddenly break\noff, and hastily shinning up the tree, snatch up the baby, hurry to the\nvery topmost branch, where she plumped it down as who should\nsay,--\"Tiresome little wretch!\" and then come down to resume her play. Thus\nis a mischievous midshipman mast-headed, and thus is the British baby sent\nup to the nursery while mamma amuses herself. Natives say that when monkey\nbabies die the mothers often go mad, and that in the excess of their\naffection they occasionally squeeze their offspring to death. It is at\nleast certain that a mother monkey will carry with her for weeks the dried\nand dead body of her little one, nursing and petting it as if it were\nalive. In defence of the little ones the sires will fight savagely, as is\ntheir duty. I knew a fat fox terrier, the dream of whose life was to catch\na monkey. Once it came true, and for half a minute, said a man who saw, he\nheld a baby monkey. I was indoors at the time, but as the dog passed me to\ntake refuge under a chair, I knew from his solemn silence that something\nhad happened. The leader monkey had fallen upon him and inflicted three\nfrightful bites--more like deep knife-cuts than the work of teeth--which\nseemed likely to prove fatal; but first-rate surgical skill was available,\nand Bob was saved to carefully avoid monkeys in future.\n\nA quaint episode of our acquaintanceship with monkey folk was the arrival\nduring one of our levees of one of the wandering performers who lead about\ntame monkeys with a goat that serves them as charger. The wild monkeys drew\noff at first suspiciously, but when the man sat down to his performance and\nmade their tame brethren dance, put on strange raiment, and mount the goat,\nthey crept closer with horrified curiosity and evident disgust. The tame\nmonkeys off duty regarded their free kinsmen with listless indifference,\nand the artiste at work never seemed to glance at them, though they watched\nhim with jealous and angry eyes, much, I imagine, as labourers on strike\nwatch blacklegs.\n\nThere is a belief that during severe winters wild monkeys, instead of\nfurtively hanging about the grocers' shops and watching their chance to\nsteal, come into Simla streets in bands and stand whining like beggars\nasking for alms. But there is only native authority for this story. It is\njust possible they may have been so hard pressed as to seek human help, but\nit is an immense step for such wild and distrustful creatures to take. Some\nshopkeepers habitually feed them, and they may have whined at a place where\nthey missed their daily dole.\n\nA wistful, watchful melancholy seems to be the normal mood of the mature\nmonkey, broken by sudden flashes of interest which change as suddenly into\nindifference or abstraction. Few animals seem to spend so much time in\nsitting and looking about them, while only the birds can command more lofty\nposts of observation. Among men, some sailors and many Orientals have a\nsimilar faculty of tranquil outlooking. But the sudden flash of interest in\na triviality and its abrupt cessation remind one more of lunacy than of\nsane humanity. Their life is hard and hungry, and as the creatures lope\ndisconsolately along in the rain, or crouch on branches with dripping backs\nset against the tree trunk as a shelter from the driving storm, they have\nthe air of being very sorry for themselves. Consumption is not unknown\namong them, and a monkey's cough, heard through the drip of the forest on a\nwet night, is a dismal sound. But when the sun shines the younger ones play\nlike schoolboys. They have a game like the English boys' cock of the\ndung-hill or king of the castle, but instead of pushing each other from the\ntop of a knoll or dust-heap, the castle is a pendent branch of a tree. The\ngame is to keep a place on the bough, which swings with their weight as\nwith a cluster of fruit while the players struggle to dislodge one another,\neach, as he drops, running round and climbing up again to begin anew. This\nsport is kept up for an hour at a time with keen enjoyment, and when one is\nnimble as a monkey it must be splendid fun.\n\n[Illustration: YOUNG MONKEYS AT PLAY]\n\nThe way of a ship on the sea may be strange, but the path of a monkey\nthrough tree-land is no less surprising. At one moment a creature is in\ntranquil meditation on the creation of the world or the origin of evil, at\nthe next it has thrown itself backward apparently into illimitable space,\nbut at the right instant a bough is seized and the animal swings to\nanother and another with infallible certainty. The larger lang\u016br does not\nseem to play concerted games, and his movements have a bolder sweep and\nabandonment. He travels on a more lofty story of the tree-terraces,\nprogressing through the pines in a succession of leaping feats, performed\nwith the ease, deliberation, and precision of perfect gymnastic art. The\nscenery which nature has assigned to this performance gives an impression\nof freedom which makes the thought of confinement infamous.\n\nOn the plains life would appear to be easier, for there is an almost\nconstant succession of fruits and edible leaves in the jungles, and the\ncrops are more accessible. Thievish monkeys sometimes haunt the\nhalting-places of travellers. A friend of mine halted at a _parao_ or stage\nwhere was a grove of mango-trees affording grateful shade to travellers,\nand while resting, he watched a little comedy. Apart from the others, a\nHindu was preparing his evening meal. In one pot over the fire a stew of\npulse was boiling, while he kneaded dough and baked the invariable wheaten\nflap-jacks. As each cake is taken from the iron griddle plate it is stuck\nedgewise in the hot embers till all are ready, when they are piled\ntogether. This was done, and the Hindu turned to set the ghi pot and\ndrinking vessels in order and to hail his companion to come to dinner.\nWhile his back was turned, a big monkey dropped from the boughs overhead,\nseized the pile of cakes, and was off in a flash. Now the baking of bread\nis a semi-ritualistic business, involving a good deal of labour, and it was\na very angry Hindu who received in his face one of the hot flap-jacks\ndropped by the monkey clutching his prize with awkward fingers above. Then\nthe other man came and swore too, but the monkey swore the worst, irritated\nby the heat of his plunder, which, however, he was determined not to let\ngo. The watchman of the stage assured my friend that this trick was a\nfrequent occurrence, for that particular monkey was \"as cunning as a\n_baniya_ (or tradesman) and as daring as a _thug_ (highway robber)--a very\ndemon of a monkey.\" Yet it had never occurred to him or to the robbed\ntravellers to take measures against it.\n\nIt may be that \"advanced India\" will in time give up the protection of the\nmonkey, but there are hitherto no signs of a change in popular feeling. In\nApril 1886, in the highly civilised and cosmopolitan city of Bombay, a\nHindu of good position was in danger of losing every social privilege of\nhis caste and of undergoing an ostracism more complete than any imagined by\nAthenian citizen or Irish Land-leaguer, because he was said to have allowed\na European officer of police to shoot a troublesome monkey from the window\nof his house. The officer had been invited by the people to rid them of the\ncreature, and its death was frankly acknowledged as a relief, but the\nletter of the law forbade the murder. Officers of government are careful\nnot to wound the feelings of the people with reference both to monkeys and\npeacocks, a delicacy which does not always restrain the hungry low-caste\nman.\n\nA collector and magistrate of a district in Hindustan proper had been out\nshooting, and was returning to camp. On a tree on the other side of the\nGanges Canal, along which he was walking, sat a monkey. The animal seemed\nalmost out of range, and my friend idly pointed his gun and fired in its\ndirection with intent to startle it, but, to his dismay, the monkey fell\nand lay dead. Fortunately no one was near, and at night this worshipful\nmagistrate, whose word was law for leagues round, stole out alone with a\nlantern, taking a long round to the nearest bridge, to look for his victim.\nIt was not easily found, and never, even on the judicial bench, did he so\nkeenly realise the feelings of a murderer trying to hide the evidences of\nhis guilt. He succeeded in disposing of the body, and returned to camp\ndetermined never to point a gun at a monkey again. Another friend of mine\nhad for neighbour a Hindu devotee of great repute and sanctity, whose hut,\nbesides being a resort of gamblers and bad characters, had a large retinue\nof monkeys that were fed by visitors. The animals wrought great havoc in my\nfriend's garden, whereupon in his irritation he threatened to shoot them.\nThe S\u00e2dhu took the will for the deed, and fulminated a curse against the\nEnglishman as terrible as that which the Archbishop of Rheims inflicted on\nthe jackdaw. He was filled with a holy joy when my friend fell ill, and\ndesponded when he recovered.\n\nSt. Francis de Sales wrote:--\"I am despised and I grow angry;--so does the\npeacock or the monkey.\" This is more like an Oriental than a Western word.\nThe irritable monkey is ready to be angry at anything. The Oriental,\nhowever, considers the monkey--apart from his sacred affinity with Hanum\u0101n,\na type, not so much of petulance, as of untrustworthiness. \"What is a\nmonkey's friendship worth?\" he asks, and he says in scorn of a trivial and\nfoolish person--\"a tailless monkey.\" \"A cocoa-nut in a monkey's hand,\"\nstands for ill-bestowed gifts or gear and for ineptitude, for the creature\ncannot get at the kernel, having neither strength nor wit to break the\nshell. \"A flower in a monkey's hand\" is a common Malay expression to a\nsimilar purpose. \"One monkey does not tell another monkey that his buttocks\nare red\" is a homely word with obvious uses. There are ten things, says a\nproverb, which may not be depended upon--\"A courtesan, a monkey, fire,\nwater, a procuress, an army, a distiller, a tailor, a parrot, and a\ngoldsmith.\" The selection is significant, and--in India--just. In the\nstables of the wealthy a monkey is often kept to attract to itself stray\ninfluences of the evil eye, that ever-present bogy of the East. So there is\na saying,--\"What goes wrong in the stable falls on the monkey's head.\" This\ncan be used in daily life by those frequent persons who habitually fancy\nthemselves wrongly accused. It is unlucky to utter the word monkey in the\nmorning, but lucky to see one before breakfast. \"Speak of a monkey or an\nowl in the morning and you'll get no breakfast.\"\n\nIn the R\u0101m\u0101yana of T\u016blsi Dass, (a relatively modern version of the great\nepic poem in which the Hindus delight) a method of catching monkeys by\nmeans of a bait of grain in a narrow-mouthed jar is spoken of as an example\nof the metaphysical principle of illusion which makes so great a figure in\nHindu cobweb philosophy. The monkey is supposed to fill his fist so full\nthat he is unable to withdraw it, and has not the wit to let go his spoil\nand release himself. This is quite reasonable enough for a metaphysical\nillustration. A more practical form of illusion is to put some grain in a\nclear glass bottle and hand it to a monkey. It tries to seize the grain,\nthen, concluding the distance was not properly judged, it takes a careful\nsight along the bottle, and, with a diverting air of great astuteness,\npasses a slow hand down and gives a sudden clutch. After one or two\nattempts it loses temper and interest. Similarly, the illusion of a mirror\npuzzles a young dog when he is first introduced to it, and, according to\nhis character and temper, interests and excites him, but after a short time\nhe gives it up and waits for more facts, like the philosopher he is. A\nfoolish cock-sparrow, on the other hand, will nearly kill himself in\nfighting his reflection.\n\nDoes the survival of respect for monkeys, amounting at times to a definite\nacknowledgment of kinship, indicate the early arrival of Hindu philosophers\nat the latest conclusion of European Evolutionists? Modern Hindu students\nof the Vedas and other ancient records draw from those vague depths\nmaterial to support such theories as the Hindu discovery of America and the\nfounding of the ruined cities of its central region; with the use of\nballoons, railways, and contrivances like the electric telegraph. A slender\nverbal hint suffices to give a complacent sense of having once at least\nmarched in the foremost files of time. But they would be on more plausible,\nif not more solid ground in essaying to show that the Hindu respect for\nlife, the admission of the essential unity of the life-spark, whether in\nman or moss, and the special regard for the ancestral monkey, its\ndeification, and the traditions of its aptitude for speech, labour, and\nwar, were proofs that the philosophy of the East has for ages sat in\ntranquil occupation of a peak of discovery to which the vanguard of Western\nscience has but now attained.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nOF ASSES\n\n    \"'Twas when the rain fell steady and the ark was pitched and ready,\n    And Noah got his orders for to take the bastes below:\n    He haled them all together by the hide and horn and feather,\n    And all except the donkey were agreeable to go.\n\n    \"Then Noah spoke him fairly, then rated him sevarely,\n    And then he cursed him squarely to the glory of the Lord,\n    'Divil take the ass that bred you and the triple ass that fed you,\n    Divil go with you, you spalpeen;'--and the donkey went aboard.\n\n    \"But the wind was always failin' and 'twas most onaisy sailin',\n    And the ladies in the cabins couldn't stand the stable air,\n    And the bastes betwixt the hatches, they tuk and died in batches,\n    And Noah said 'There's one of us that hasn't paid his fare.'\n\n    \"For he heard a flusteration with the bastes of all creation,\n    The trumpeting of elephants and the bellowing of whales.\n    And he saw forninst the windy, when he went to stop the shindy,\n    The Devil with a pitchfork, bedevilling their tails.\n\n    \"The Devil cursed outrageous, but Noah said umbrageous,--\n    'To what am I indebted for this tenant-right invasion?'\n    And the Devil gave for answer,--'Evict me if you can, sir,\n    For I came in with the donkey at your honour's invitation.'\"\n\n                                                                   R. K.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nPassing from the free to the fettered, we come to a beast which in India\nserves at once as an expression of wild liberty, more complete than that of\nthe monkey, and of utter and abject slavery. There is no freedom more\nunrestrained than that of the wild ass and no bondage more bitter than that\nof his brother in servitude. For a wholly unmerited obloquy, relic of a\ndark aboriginal superstition, is added to the burden of toil and hard\nliving. Yet there was once a time when in the nearer East, or ever the\nhorse was known, he was held in high honour, carved in Assyrian sculptures,\nand reckoned a suitable steed for prophets and kings. Even now in Cairo,\nDamascus, and Bagdad, although the Bedawi Arab pretends to despise him, he\nis regularly ridden by respectable people.\n\nThe _Arabian Nights_ story of a conversation overheard between the ox and\nthe ass shows the estimation in which he was held; and it is written that\nMuhammad himself had two asses, one of which was called Yaf\u016br, nor did that\ngreat man disdain to ride double. But here in India, by formal\nprescription, only the gypsy, the potter, the washerman, and such like\nfolk, out-caste or of low caste, will mount or own the ass. This\nprescription, and the ridiculous Hindu association of the donkey with the\ngoddess of smallpox, account for the universal dislike and disdain in which\nthis most useful, sagacious, and estimable animal is held. He is never fed\nby his owners, and his chronic hunger is mocked by a popular saying that to\nfeed a donkey is neither sin nor sacrifice:--\"_na p\u00e2p na p\u016dn_.\" A dozen\npopular Indian versions of \"casting pearls before swine\" derisively offer\ncakes, sweetmeats, bread, sugar, saffron, ghi, and curry-combs to the ass,\nand it has entered into no one's mind to conceive the simple truth that he\nhas deserved them all. Also, with bitter irony, he is said to be always in\ngood case whatever the season--because in the hot, dry weather, when he\nlooks about on the burnt-up plain, he brays with glee--saying:--\"This is\nvastly well! I must be fat since I have eaten up all the grass.\" While in\nthe rains he brays and says:--\"I shall never get through all this fodder.\"\nAs a joke this popular gibe is beneath contempt, while as an imputation on\nthe donkey's sense it is wholly unwarranted. A purely idiotic and\nunaccountable fancy is that if one walks over the place where a donkey has\nrolled he will have pains in his feet or be smitten with paralysis. The\nArab superstition recorded by Al Masudi, that ghouls have asses' feet, may\nhave some share in the notion, for in the East ghouls are still alive and\nhave a natural history of their own.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt may not be very painful, but the slitting of the poor creature's\nnostrils, almost universal in India, and meant to soften the clangour of\nhis voice, has always seemed to me a monstrous affectation of delicacy of\near on the part of people who delight in the tom-tom and the pipe, while\nit gives a tattered and woe-begone air to a countenance already\nsufficiently marked with dejection. Nor is it of the least use, for that\nstormy music, \"loud and clear,\" rings with unabated force in spite of the\nhideous mutilation. Mr. Villiers Stuart of Dromana mentions an ancient\nEgyptian wall-picture of a driver trying to stop his donkey when in full\nbray. The Speaker of the House of Commons in wig and robe may at times\nsucceed in staunching the human,--but nothing short of decapitation would\navail to silence the equine ass until that final sound, most like the spasm\nof a church organ when the wind fails, is reached. And when they slit the\nnostrils, they proceed in mere wantonness of brutality to split the ears\nalso. For this there can be no reason. It is impossible to write in\nmeasured phrase of these cruel tricks, but those who dream of Oriental\nloving-kindness should be told that they have been practised for centuries,\nand are still unnoticed and unrebuked.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHis very name, _G\u0103dha_--the roarer,--is a reproach. Some Muhammadans have\nan idea that the donkey sees the devil when he brays, possibly because of\nthe belief that it was he who introduced the Father of Evil into the Ark.\nWhen H\u0103zr\u0103t Nuh (the worshipful Noah) was marshalling the animals into the\nArk, the donkey, as is his modest wont, held back. \"Nay then, go along!\"\nsaid Noah; but the ass did not move. Then the Patriarch lost his temper,\nfor the time was short and the clouds were gathering, and he cried, \"Go on\nand may the Devil go with thee!\" When the door was shut Noah met the Evil\nOne inside and asked how he came there. \"Surely then,\" replied that Wicked\nOne, \"I came by your honour's invitation.\" If there is a moral in this\nabsurdity, it is that when holy men lose their tempers they open the door\nto sin; but in some topsy-turvy way, possible only to Oriental thought, the\nobloquy of the anecdote falls on the innocent ass. If injurious reflections\nand vile phrases were all he had to bear, there would not be much cause for\ncomplaint, but it is hard to write with patience of the constant and cruel\nbeating the poor creature receives.\n\nThe race, through centuries of ill-usage, is stunted and weak; and the\nbrutal rule seems to be that to the smallest ass shall go the biggest\nstick. It is just possible by taking the cudgel from the ass-driver's hand\nand applying it lustily to his back to convey to his mind some glimmering\nof an idea that the blows he finds hard to bear may perhaps be painful to\nthe ass. No mere words avail to suggest this new and strange notion. The\nevangel of kindness to God's creatures can scarcely, however, be spread by\nmissionaries with thick sticks; and for many a year to come the portion of\nthe ass must be starvation and ill-usage. A folk-tale which accounts for\nthe popular saying \"As brave as the potter's wife\" bears unintentional\ntestimony to the way in which the ass is beaten. One cold dark night a\npotter and his wife were roused from sleep by sounds in the yard outside\nand the fall of pipkins. \"Get up, man!\" said the wife, \"and drive the\ndonkey away.\" But being warm, snug, and sleepy, he replied, \"Bother the\ndonkey!\" and pulled the blanket over his shoulders. Thereupon, uttering\nsome truisms of world-wide acceptation on the selfishness of husbands, the\ngood wife arose, and seizing the potter's staff sallied out to bestow on\nthe intruder's back all the resentment caused by her husband's laziness.\nShe laid on with a will and the beast was still. So she went to bed again,\nmuttering more truths. But in the morning when they opened the door they\nfound no donkey, but a tiger, which the good woman had unwittingly beaten\nto death in the dark. The potter and his donkey have originated one of the\nmany ironical gibes of the country. A traveller met two horsemen richly\nattired, and, a little farther on, a potter jogging along on his ass. He\nasked the latter who the cavaliers might be. \"We three gentlemen are going\nto Delhi,\" said the potter, and this speech is murmured when a man brags\nof the fine company he keeps.\n\n[Illustration: THE POTTER AND HIS DONKEY]\n\nThe black mark set against the ass by Hindu superstition from his\nassociation with Sitala, the goddess of smallpox, has already been noticed.\nThis awful divinity is one of the ten manifestations of Durga or Kali the\nDestroyer, and is suspected of having entered the Hindu pantheon from the\nlower levels of aboriginal superstition. She is dreaded by all, but her\nworship, which is never performed during an epidemic of smallpox, seems to\nbe confined to women and children, who flock to her shrines in thousands\nand sometimes throw a few grains of pulse to the ass.[1] But the poor\ncreature draws no real profit from his appointment to be her\n_v\u00e2han_--vehicle or steed. The bull, on the other hand, as the _v\u00e2han_ of\nMahadeo or Shiva, often enjoys a full-fed freedom, and those led about by\nHindu beggars are known as _nandi_, \"the happy one,\" the name given to the\ncarven stone bull in front of Hindu temples and to the small brass bull\nwhich supports the canopy over a domestic _shiv_.\n\n[Footnote 1: Mr. Ibbetson writes, in his _Outlines of Punjab Ethnography_,\n\"These deities (of disease) are never worshipped by men, but only by women\nand children, enormous numbers of whom attend the shrines of renown on\nSitala's seventh. Every village has its local shrine too, at which the\nofferings are all impure. Sitala rides on a donkey, and grain is given to\nthe donkey and to his master the potter, after being waved over the head of\nthe child. Fowls, pigs, goats are offered, black dogs are fed, and white\ncocks are waved and let loose. An adult who has recovered from smallpox\nshould let a pig loose to Sitala or he will be again attacked. During an\nattack no offerings are made, and if the epidemic has once seized on a\nvillage all worship is discontinued till the disease has disappeared; but\nso long as she keeps her hands off nothing is too good for the goddess, for\nshe is the one great dread of Indian mothers.\"]\n\nIn the days of rough-and-ready Q\u00e2zi justice, criminals were frequently\nsentenced to be shaven and blackened and to be paraded, with their clothes\nrent, through the city, mounted on asses, with their faces tailwards, and\na garland of old shoes round their necks. An old Sikh of my acquaintance\nhas seen this punishment inflicted, with the addition, in the case of\nthieves, of the loss of hands, ears, or noses. In Mussulman countries\nfarther west the penalty is still applied. Even now, in remote Indian\nvillages, a noxious person is occasionally treated to a donkey ride of this\nkind, with a noisy accompaniment of beaten pans. In the similar \"skimmity\nride\" of the south of England, described in Mr. Thomas Hardy's _Mayor of\nCasterbridge_, effigies of the offending persons are paraded on the backs\nof asses. As an example of utter shamelessness they tell of offenders who,\nafter the performance, calmly demand the donkey as their perquisite. In\nfolk-tales unfaithful wives have their noses cut off and are paraded on\ndonkey-back. Nose-cutting, by the way, as in the days of the Hitopadesa, is\nthe punishment still awarded by popular sentiment in India to conjugal\ninfidelity, and not a week passes without a case of this horror, in our\npolice courts; but it is only the woman's nose which suffers, and the\ngreater part of these barbarities never comes to light.\n\nThere are evidences of a quaint ritual of obloquy in which the honest\ndonkey was made to take part. When it was decided that a site was infamous\nfor some sacro-sanct Hindu reason, it was formally ploughed up and asses\nwere yoked to the plough. But a re-consecration was possible, and then the\nlordly elephant dragged the plough. \"May your homestead be ploughed by\nasses\" is still a common Hindu curse.\n\nThe ass has been made to serve in the conflicts of race and creed which\nstill divide India. Before the establishment of British rule the Hindus on\nthe North-West frontier, where Muhammadan authority was paramount, were\nnot allowed to wear full-size turbans, and might ride asses only. In the\nindependent state of Cutch Bh\u016bj, on the other hand, where the rulers are\nHindus, the Muhammadan Borahs were forbidden to ride on horseback, a\ndisability which has only just been removed (1890). The Borahs, on whom\nthis indignity has for so long been laid, are not, as might be imagined,\nlow-caste folk of no consideration, but include among them some of the most\nintelligent, public-spirited, and wealthy men in the Bombay Presidency. The\nMuhammadan is perhaps, in matters of this kind, more tyrannical and\nintolerant than the Hindu. At this moment the Jews in some parts of Morocco\nmay only ride on asses, with their faces tailwards, and they may not wear\nshoes.\n\nThat caste pride is as strong among people of low estate as in the upper\nranks is a commonplace everywhere. Indian grooms of the leather-dresser\ntribes are supposed to be of low degree; but when a lady of my acquaintance\nproposed to get a donkey for her little son she learned a lesson in this\nsubject from one of her horse-keepers: \"No, madam, my son shall never wait\non an ass. You must get a potter's brat for him, and he must not come near\nour stable.\"\n\nIndia follows, or perhaps the East has led, other countries in the use of\nthe donkey's name as a term of reproach. \"Ass\" is a common word in all\ncontemptuous mouths, and \"tailless ass\" is an occasional enhancement of\nscorn. When a fool is praised by a fool they say, \"Ass scratches ass,\" and\na similar saying expresses the arts of log-rolling intrigues with homely\nforce. For the sake of ricochet shots at fools the poor beast is insulted\nby comparisons which would never occur to his humble mind, as \"Wash an ass\nas much as you like, you will never make a calf of him,\" or \"Bray him in a\nmortar, but he will never be a horse.\" Muhammadans say, \"If even the ass of\nJesus went to Mecca he would still come back an ass.\" The obstinacy born of\nill-usage, which is his only fault, points many a gibe. As an illustration\nof Afgh\u0101n character a folk-tale tells that at a Punjab river ferry a crowd\nof passengers and animals were assembled. When the boat came, all went\naboard without hesitation, excepting an ass, which refused to move. His\ndriver pushed and the boatmen hauled without effect, until at last an\nAfgh\u0101n among the waiting passengers drew his _churra_, the long and heavy\nKhyber knife, and smote the poor beast's head off at a blow, crying,\n\"Obstinacy like this may be permitted to an Afgh\u0101n, but to a donkey,\nnever.\"\n\nAmong the Biloch, neighbours of the Afgh\u0101n, this same obstinacy is\nhonoured. Mr. Ibbetson writes in his _Punjab Ethnography_, \"When a male\nchild is born, asses' dung in water, symbolical of pertinacity, is dropped\ninto his mouth from the point of a sword before he is given the breast.\"\nAntipathies of race and region, calmly ignored by those who write of \"the\npeople of India\" as one and indivisible, find expression in sayings wherein\nthe donkey takes part. A Hindustani will say of a Punjabi, \"A country\ndonkey with a Punjab bray\"; and the Punjabi retaliates with, \"A country\ndonkey with an Eastern limp\"; while of the Bengali Baboo, who affects\nEnglish speech and manners, they say, \"A hill jackass with an English\nbray.\"\n\nYet while the animal is despised the nutritive value of its milk is\nrecognised. The potter and his family grow strong at the expense of the ass\nfoal, and the high-caste Hindu pretends to be horrified by such an\nabomination. Vemana, a sage whose sayings take a high rank in Telugu\nliterature, says, \"A single spoonful of milk from a good cow is enough--of\nwhat use is a pailful of asses' milk?\" Most Hindus would say that the use\nof this fluid is impossible under any circumstances. None the less is it\naccounted a valuable medicine by Hindu doctors, who on occasion put caste\nlaws aside and compound mixtures, compared with which the most loathsome\nmesses set forth in \"Saxon leechdoms\" are what our English druggists would\ncall elegant prescriptions. Asses' milk is prescribed for a tendency to\nphthisis and other diseases, but usually at too late a stage to be of any\nuse.\n\nIn some regions the donkey enjoys a moment's honour as the steed of Sitala;\nfor a bridegroom about to start in the marriage procession will mount an\nass for an instant, as a propitiation to the dread goddess. In customary\ntalk, however, there are but few sayings which treat him with any touch of\nconsideration. The \"donkey's beauty\" of Italian and French proverb has an\nequivalent in \"Even a she-ass is pretty when she is young.\" The creature's\nsureness of foot is admitted in \"A donkey will tumble down hill when you\ncan split a fowl's ear.\" The poor wretch is turned loose when his work is\ndone to that forlorn freedom of neglect which is the only privilege of the\noutcast. So they say in varying forms of phrase, \"The donkey may be sore\nwith beating, despised of all men and accursed as the _v\u00e2han_ of Sitala,\nbut at least he is never plagued with tether or heel-rope.\" Some\nalleviation is granted even to the most abject misery.\n\nThere is a more complete harmony with the topsy-turvy scheme of Oriental\nappreciations than can be imagined by untravelled folk in the fact that\nwhile the ass is the most despised of creatures he is one of the most\nuseful. There are regions where he is yoked to the plough, but his\nprincipal occupation is carrying clothes for the washerman, and earth,\nburnt and unburnt lime, and stone for the potter, the builder, and the\nrailway contractor. Your great works in the West are built by strong-armed\nmen, but in India railway bank, water-works dam, and Queen's highway are\nraised by the slender cooly woman and the little donkey. His step is first\nin the peaceful halls which mark the new civilisation, but his loads are\ntoo heavy for his weak limbs, his rude harness seems to be expressly\ncontrived to gall and wound him, his life is one long martyrdom to the\nstick, and he is shamefully abandoned to starve and die when his strength\nfails. According to a country tale, similar to one told by Longfellow in\nhis _Tales of a Wayside Inn_, there was once an Indian ruler who took\ncompassion on a donkey. The Emperor Jehanghir caused a bell to be slung\nover his couch which might be rung by any petitioner with a wrong to\nredress. One day it was found that a castaway ass, rubbing his sore hide\nagainst the bell-rope, had rung a peal. The creature was haled before the\nthrone, and search was made for its master, a washerman, who confessed that\nhe had abandoned it to starve and die. The Emperor gave him a lecture on\nhis cruelty, and ordered him to take back his faithful servant to be fed\nand cherished and to appear again before him after a season. That one\ndonkey was groomed and fed as never ass before or since and brought sleek\nand fat into the august presence; but the example has borne no fruit, and\nthe grim \"burial of an ass\" described by the prophet Jeremiah succeeds a\nlingering death by starvation.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nOF GOATS AND SHEEP\n\n    \"They killed a child to please the Gods\n      In earth's young penitence,\n    And I have bled in that babe's stead\n      Because of innocence.\"\n\n    \"I bear the sins of sinful men\n      That have no sin of my own;\n    They drive me forth to Heaven's wrath\n      Unpastured and alone.\"\n\n    \"I am the meat of sacrifice,\n      The ransom of man's guilt,\n    For they give my life to the altar knife,\n      Wherever shrine is built.\"\n\n                                          R. K.\n\n[Illustration: A HINDU SACRIFICIAL KNIFE]\n\n\n\"There is no house possessing a goat but a blessing abideth thereon; and\nthere is no house possessing three goats but the angels pass the night\nthere praying,\" said Muhammad. And truly, if the animals of India had\ncreeds like the people, goats would be of Isl\u00e1m; for though a vast\nproportion of the population, including Hindus, possess a goat or two and\neat their flesh, it is mostly Moslems who keep them in flocks and trade in\nthem. There is something too in appearances. The Brahminy bull looks every\ninch a Hindu; and the goat, to accustomed eyes, has no less decided a\nMuhammadan air.\n\nImmense numbers of he-goats are sacrificed by Hindus, principally to the\ngoddess Kali, one of the manifestations of Durga; and the practice is to\ndecapitate them at a blow with a heavy bill-hook-shaped knife. It is\nsupposed, indeed, that only animals slaughtered in this fashion are fit for\nHindu food. For many years a goat has been sacrificed daily at a temple\nwithin the precincts of the old palace at Amb\u00e9r, the former capital of the\nJeypore state in Rajputana; and here, as in some other places, the\ntradition is that the goat is a substitute for a human sacrifice once\nregularly offered. In some parts of India, Hindus say, \"The goat gets its\nown tail,\" a saying based on a local sacrificial usage. Each limb of the\nsacrifice belongs to a deity. The tail is assigned to Vishnu, who only can\nsave. This part is therefore cut off and put into its mouth, so that at\nleast the creature gets salvation, and presumably has less cause of\nobjection to death. The Muhammadan _hal\u0101l_ custom involves a sort of verbal\napology to the creature slain, with a prayer; and, like the Hindu custom,\nseems to acknowledge that it also has a soul. Some Muhammadans kill a goat\nby way of sacrifice soon after the birth of a man child, and when a child\nis sick. The throat is cut with the usual invocation, pronounced by a\nMoollah.\n\n[Illustration: A DOMESTIC SACRIFICE (MUHAMMADAN)]\n\nWe say in derision of hasty vows, \"When the devil was sick,\" etc.: in India\nthey mutter, \"If I get safe across I'll offer a goat.\" The story goes that\na Meo, one of the crocodile-eating river-side tribesmen, made this promise\nwhen starting to cross the Ganges in flood; but when half-way over he found\nit less dangerous than he had feared, so instead of a goat he vowed to\nsacrifice a hen. When he had fairly won over, even the fowl seemed too much\nto give, so he sought for an insect among his clothing. This was easily\nfound, and as he crushed it he said, \"A life for a life, and that's\nenough.\"\n\nIn the hill districts of the Punjab the ancient idea still prevails that\nthe sacrifice is not efficacious unless the animal first shivers. Thus,\nduring the marriage progress of a hill-chief a goat is sacrificed at\nbridges and dangerous passes, and the long train waits contentedly until\nthe creature shivers. The Brahmans, if so disposed, hasten the tremor by\ndashing a handful of cold water into the goat's ear, and thus produce a\nquite satisfactory shiver. In Kulu, a hill province bordering on Tibet,\nwhen two men have a difference which would lead elsewhere to a costly\nlaw-suit, each leads a goat to a shrine at Nuggur, the chief town, and\nwaits to see which beast shivers first. The owner of that goat wins his\ncase, and the contending parties go home content with a divine judgment for\nwhich no lawyer's fees have been paid. But in these cases they do not use\nthe cold douche.\n\nSo far as I know, belief in the shivering goat as a favourable omen is\nconfined to the hills, and it is particularly strong in Tibet. It was\nconsulted with disastrous effect to the Tibetans in the recent Sikkim war\njust before they attacked our forces on the pass above Chumbi on the road\ninto Sikkim.\n\nThe goat and the kid are the staple of the flesh food of the Muhammadans\nall over the East, and also of many Hindu castes, in Northern India\nespecially. It is a fact that while the vegetarian craze is said to be\nspreading in the West, the use of goats and sheep as food is increasing in\nIndia,--popularly supposed to be given up to vegetarianism, even among\nBrahmanical castes. Throughout Hindustan proper and the Punjab, where\ncontact with Isl\u00e1m has softened the edges of Hinduism, flesh food has been\neaten by Hindus for centuries. By men, that is to say, for Hindu women very\nrarely taste it. Many more things besides flesh meat are considered too\nstrong and good for mere women. Increasing prosperity is at the bottom of\nsuch change as is taking place, and probably the silent force of example\ncounts for something. Hindus have said to me at times, \"You English do not\nsuffer so much from fever as we do because you eat flesh meat,\" and \"Your\neyesight is strong because you eat plenty of meat.\" This last might be\nbased on observation of flesh-eating birds, but I doubt it. There is,\nhowever, a popular saying which forcibly expresses an estimate of the\nvirtue of meat: \"The butcher's daughter bears a son when she is ten years\nold.\" The home-keeping brother of the Prodigal Son complained that his\nfather never gave him even a kid to make merry with his friends. Phrases\nlike this which sound strange to town-bred Western ears, occur here in\neveryday talk. Servants on the march are made happy with a present of kids,\nand the festal days at the close of the long fast of the Muhammadan Ramaz\u0101n\nare red with the slaughter of countless goats. The Englishman in India\nseldom wittingly eats goat or kid, but often in remote posting houses and\nin camp his mutton cutlet was originally goat. The native prefers kid\nbefore mutton, because the goat is a scrupulously clean feeder, while a\nhungry sheep will eat anything.\n\nIt would seem difficult to be cruel to a goat, but the keepers of the\nflocks of milch goats regularly driven morning and evening into Indian\ncities contrive to inflict a good deal of pain. The nipples of the udder\nare tied up in a torturing fashion, and there is an unnecessary use of the\nstaff. But the worst cruelty is the practice of flaying them alive in the\nbelief that skins thus prepared have a better quality. The Calcutta Society\nfor the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals prosecuted twenty-two criminals\nfor this offence in 1890, and is now inclined to hope the practice is dying\nout so far as the capital of Bengal is concerned.\n\n[Illustration: ON THE DUSTY HIGHWAY]\n\nThere are many sayings about goats, but the animal appears to be less\nsuggestive than might be expected. The wilfulness of the creature and his\nhabit of trespass are hinted in \"Nothing to bother you, eh?--then go and\nbuy a goat!\" A gibe at the greed of saintly people is expressed in verse:--\n\n    \"My Lord, the goat a saint would be,\n    His pupil was a cotton tree,\n    And quickly nibbled up was he.\"\n\nThe bearded Moollah of the mosque also has the goat cast offensively in his\nteeth. \"You were moved by my discourse, I trust it will do you good,\" says\nthe Moollah. \"Yes,\" replies the countryman, \"I could have wept, for when\nyou wagged your beard in the pulpit you were just like our old billy-goat.\"\nThis is also a European story. For \"great cry and little wool\" rustics say,\n\"The goat bleated all night and produced only one kid,\"--two being the\nusual number.\n\nIn folk-tales holy places are discovered by the milch goats coming home\ndry. It was found they had let down their milk on some sacred spot on which\na temple or shrine is afterwards raised. Many out-of-the-way Hindu shrines\nare accounted for in this way. In other stories goats lead the way to caves\ntenanted by mystic immortals of miraculous powers. A quaint belief is that\nin dry desert places where wells formerly existed goats will group\nthemselves in a circle round the ancient well brink, though not a trace of\nit is visible to the keenest human eye. Those who sketch animals may have\nnoticed that goats at rest have a way of grouping themselves as if posing\nfor their portraits. It is possible that this unconscious trick is at the\nbottom of the well-brink belief. So far as I know there are no sayings\nwhich notice the fine carriage of the head and the elegant horse-like gait\nof this beautiful animal. The Indian goat as a rule is much taller and of\nmore slender build than the European animal.\n\nFrom an administrative and economic point of view there are serious\nobjections to the goat, which is one of the plagues of the Forest\nDepartment of the Government. It is the poor man's animal and is supposed\nto cost nothing to keep. Every green shoot is nibbled off as soon as it\npeeps above the ground, and young trees are promptly destroyed by\ncreatures which spend half their time on their hind legs and have an\neffective reach up to the height of a man's head. Thus large tracts which\nnature is ready to clothe with vegetation are kept barren, and new forests\ncarefully nursed by the provident state are devastated. Many more are kept\nthan the land can carry. The creatures really belong to the purely pastoral\nscheme of life, and to the barren hillside, and are out of place in\nagricultural areas, which are increasing yearly, and may be regarded as at\nonce a sign and a cause of unthrifty poverty and land-leanness.\n\n[Illustration: MILCH GOATS]\n\nThe goat's trick of picking up stray trifles is sometimes inconvenient. A\nBengal saying runs, \"What will not a goat eat or a fool say?\" Two native\nmerchants in Bombay were concluding a bargain, and while making payment a\ncurrency note for a thousand rupees fluttered to the ground and was\npromptly eaten by a goat.\n\n[Illustration: A GUILTY GOAT]\n\nThe receiver contended that the note had never reached him and the loss was\nnot his, while the other insisted that it was the fault of the receiver's\ncarelessness. A hasty Englishman might have insisted on a sudden autopsy of\nthe goat, but these were high-caste Hindus, who never dreamed of such a\nthing, so they led the criminal between them to the Government Treasury,\nwhere, after due inquiry, I believe the loss was made good.\n\nAfter death the goat seems to be as much with us as in life, for his skin,\ncarefully withdrawn for this purpose, is borne as a water-vessel by the\n_bhisti_ or water-carrier, and there are few more complete examples of\nadaptation. The legs, sewn up, form perfect attachments for the strap by\nwhich the bag is slung on the water-carrier's back, and the throat, which\nis a convenient neck to the huge bottle, is ingeniously closed by a thong,\nand is so supple that the _bhisti_ can direct a thin stream into the mouth\nor hand of a thirsty passenger, or fill a decanter without spilling a drop,\nor water a road with a far-reaching spray like that of a watering-cart, or\nempty his burden into a bath-tub or a mortar-heap in a trice. _Bhisti_\nreally means a person from Paradise, a prince, and is one of the\nhalf-ironical titles, like khalifa or caliph for a tailor, mehter or prince\nfor a scavenger, thakur or lord for a barber, and raj or royal one for the\nbricklayer or mason, bestowed may be in time past as an acknowledgment of\nthe dignity of labour; but a little English child will often say, \"Here\ncomes the _bhisti_ with his beast!\" It is a rather pitiful beast, more like\na porpoise than a goat; yet at times when lying distended on the\nwell-block, with the leg-stumps in the air, and the man pausing a moment to\nstraighten his back before taking it up, I have thought a Levite at the\naltars of Israel may have looked like this.\n\n[Illustration: THE GOAT-SKIN WATERBAG (MASHK)]\n\nThe makers of goat-skin bags have a curious skill in flaying. One of them\nonce brought me a soft and glossy black kid skin cured with the hair on.\n\"What is this?\" \"Wait and see, sir,\" said he with a smile, and producing a\nreed, he proceeded to inflate the skin in the manner described by Don\nMiguel de Cervantes. A plump but not too shapely kid, with feet, ears, and\neven eyes (in glass) complete, resulted, nor could I find a trace of a\nseam. \"Would not this be a fine thing for the 'wonder house'?\" (native name\nfor museum). As a museum specimen it was scarcely eligible, but to this\nmoment I have no idea how it was done.\n\nIn Europe the goat is associated with the vine. The Bible has familiarised\nus with the use of its skin as a wine-bag or \"bottle,\" and it is still used\nfor this purpose in Spain and Cyprus. The Athenians during the festival of\nDionysus made a pretty game,--Ascoliasmus,--of leaping and dancing barefoot\non a wine-filled goat-skin smeared with oil. India is too temperate for\nsuch high jinks, and puts no wine into skin bottles, for it makes none. A\n_dren_ is a sort of raft made of goat or deer-skins inflated with air,\nastride on which is uneasily fixed a cot bedstead. This serves as a\nferry-boat, and is used for descending hill-streams, the legs and arms of\nthe men in charge serving as oars and rudder. I have seen a gracious lady\nof strong nerve, sitting serenely aloft on a contrivance of this kind,\nattended by splashing bronze mermen, go gaily down a brawling river like a\nnew Amphitrite. When filled with water merely, the goat-skin or \"mashk\" is\na characteristic object. There is a story of an aide-de-camp in Simla who,\nwhen walking up hill in full uniform behind a water-carrier on whose back a\nnewly filled \"mashk\" glistened plump in the sunshine, yielded to a\ntemptation that many have felt, and drawing his too-ready sword slashed the\nthing open. It had not occurred to him that the \"mashk\" was full of dirty\nwater for road watering, nor that the whole contents would burst over him\nin a cataract and utterly ruin his brave attire. One pays dearly sometimes\nfor the gratification of sudden impulses.\n\n[Illustration: BHISTI, OR WATER-CARRIER]\n\nIn the Him\u00e1laya, flour and other food borne on a journey or brought home\nfrom the shop are carried in a goat-skin bag which always forms a part of\nthe equipment of the hill peasant. When in accordance with an ancient\ncustom, men are impressed as porters or to work on the roads, as in the\nFrench _corv\u00e9e_--a blanket and a skin full of flour seem to be all they\ntake with them for an absence of three or four days on the hillside. These\nare Hindus, but down in India proper no Hindu would put his food in a\nleathern bag. There are many Hindus, indeed, who will not drink water from\nthe water-carrier's bag, and it were well if all shared this prejudice,\nfor, though undeniably handy and useful, it cannot be called a wholesome\ncontrivance. \"Pipe-water,\" _i.e._ the tap-water now being introduced into\nmost large Indian towns, besides lowering the death-rate and increasing the\ncomfort of the inhabitants, has already lessened and will further reduce\nthe number of water-carriers.\n\nIt is only in India and Peru that the sheep is used as a beast of burden.\nBorax, asafetida, and other commodities are brought in bags on the backs of\nsheep driven in large flocks from Tibet into British territory. One of the\nsensations of journeying in the hills of \"the interior,\" as the farther\nrecesses of the mountains are called by Anglo-Indians, is to come suddenly\non such a drove as it winds, with the multitudinous click of little feet,\nround the shoulder of some Him\u00e1layan spur. The coarse hair bags scrape the\ncliff side from which the narrow path is out-built or hollowed, and allow\nbut scant room for your pony, startled by the unexpected sight and the\nquick breathing hurry of the creatures as they crowd and scuffle past. Only\nthe picturesque shepherds return from these journeys, for the carriers of\nthe caravan, feeding as they go, gather flesh in spite of their burdens and\nprovide most excellent mutton.\n\n[Illustration: A SPORTING MAN]\n\nSheep are numerous in India, but they are seldom kept by the cultivator or\nfarmer, for the combination of agricultural with pastoral life, common in\nother countries, is almost unknown. In the towns of the plains rams are\nkept as fighting animals, and the sport is a source of gratification to\nmany. A Muhammadan \"buck\" going out for a stroll with his fighting ram\nmakes a picture of point-device foppery not easily surpassed by the\nsporting fancy of the West. The ram is neatly clipped, with a judicious\nreservation of salient tufts touched with saffron and mauve dyes, and\nbesides a necklace of large blue beads, it bears a collar of hawk-bells.\nIts master wears loosely round his neck or on his shoulders a large\nhandkerchief of the brightest colours procurable, his vest is of scarlet or\nsky-blue satin embroidered with colour and gold, his slender legs are\nencased in skin-tight drawers, a gold-embroidered cap is poised on one side\nof his head, his long, black hair, parted in the middle and shining with\nscented hair-oil, is sleeked behind his ears, where it has a drake's tail\ncurl which throws in relief his gold earrings, and in addition to two or\nthree necklaces, he usually wears a gold chain. Patent leather shoes and a\ncane complete the costume. As he first affronts the sunshine, he looks\nundeniably smart, but his return, I have observed, is not always so\ntriumphant. The ram naturally loses interest in a stroll which has not\nanother ram in perspective, and it is not easy to preserve an air of\ndistinction when angrily propelling homeward a heavy and reluctant sheep.\n\nThe great God Indra rides on a ram, but, for the bulk of the people, Indra\nhas been dead for many a day.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nOF COWS AND OXEN\n\n    \"By those dumb mouths be ye forgiven\n    Ere ye are heard pleading with Heaven.\"\n\n                                 SIR E. ARNOLD.\n\n[Illustration: A BOMBAY MILK WOMAN]\n\n\nIn Europe it is a half-forgotten legend that flocks and herds ranked first\namong early forms of wealth, and it is only in dissertations on the origin\nof money we are reminded that the root of pecuniary is _pecus_. But in\nagricultural and pastoral India, dependent on cattle for milk and labour,\nand on sheep and goats for flesh-meat, a hundred sayings, echoes of the now\nforgotten prayers of the Vedic hymns, repeat the ancient estimates of\ncattle. One of the first sensations of the tourist in India is the ubiquity\nof the bull, the cow, and the ox. They are, in fact, foremost figures in\nboth the rustic and urban scenery of the country. Yet Lord Macaulay, when\npainting this scenery for English readers, set down everything but its most\nessential and familiar features. There is a splendid picture in his essay\non Warren Hastings, where the rich oriental detail of palm-trees, idols,\nelephants, maidens with pitchers, and the rest, is like a profusion of\njewels set in florid beaten work of gilded metal, but the cow and ox were\nnot thought fine enough for the place in letters that they own in life.\n\nThe people have a passion,--no other word is strong enough,--for the\npossession of cattle. Indian cities, full of folk, are also vast cow byres\nor mistals, and hitherto sanitary reform has not ventured to interfere. The\ncattle come and go at their own pleasure, and rub shoulders with humanity\nwith an ineffable air of security and fellowship. Nearly everybody is, or\nthinks he is, a judge of a cow; there is no more popular subject of\ndiscourse and none with so copious a terminology. Every possible and some\napparently impossible varieties of form and colour; of hair, horn, tail,\nudder, dewlap, hump, eyes, and limbs has its separate name or phrase.\n\nThe peculiar sanctity of the animal may be a degradation of a poetical\nAryan idea, and the cow,--originally used as a symbol of the clouds\nattendant on the Sun-God,--may have succeeded by a process of\nmaterialisation to honours for which she was not intended, but she is now\nfirmly enthroned in the Hindu pantheon. There is, indeed, a strong tendency\namong modern Hindus of the reforming order to re-affirm her sanctity as a\nnational shibboleth, and to denounce cow-killing in the strongest terms.\nThe beef-fed Briton who wishes to sympathise with the Hindu does not quite\nlike to be thrust aside as one of the impure (_Maleccha_),--learning with\nsome uneasiness that millions of most estimable people would sooner die\nthan touch the roast-beef of Old England. The damning mark set against the\nEnglish admits of but faint extenuation. They have done justice and loved\nmercy, they have protected the lowly and weak, saved the widow from the\nfire, fed the famine-stricken, taught the ignorant, and made that a nation\nwhich was not a nation;--but they kill and eat the cow, and are therefore,\nin a levitical sense, abominable. The Muhammadan, however, is accounted\nworse, for he is of the people and among them; his creed is in opposition\nto theirs, and there are rankling memories of a thousand insults to it\nwrought on the sacred cow.\n\nThe Briton is an outland stranger from beyond the seven seas, he lives\napart and knows no better; the Moslem eats beef in pure spite! This is\nmanifestly unjust, but who can reason with a prejudice sanctioned by\ncenturies of usage and tradition? At this moment cow-killing is the\ndangerous question of the country, always apt to provoke tumult and\nbloodshed. I have heard the agitation for total abstinence from\nintoxicating drink in the West mentioned as a parallel to the\nanti-cow-killing movement in India, but, though touched with a similar\nunreasonableness, teetotallers have hitherto refrained from breaking the\nheads of moderate drinkers.\n\nBut while surmising that the cow may have come to a place of honour from\nearly and poetical association with myths of sun and cloud, it is possible\nto regard her dignity from a merely human and reasonable standpoint. Menu\nor other early law-givers may have proclaimed her sanctity as a means for\nher protection and preservation among a people careless of the future and\nprone to live on their capital. And with the same wise intention, the\nsetting free as consecrated gifts of cattle sires (to be noticed\nhereafter), may have been ordained. At all events, these ordinances, in the\nabsence of any scientific knowledge of breeding, have availed to preserve\nthe cow. Nor is it unlikely that they rescued her from extinction, for it\nis clear that beef was a popular food when some of the ancient Vedas were\nwritten. It would not be hard to show that the same Aryan appreciation of\nroast beef has served in the West to develop and improve cattle breeding,\nbut you will not easily persuade the modern Hindu of this fact. The\nestablishment of an aristocracy of Brahmans was another stroke of practical\nwisdom; but the days when a class can be maintained aloft by formal\nprescription merely, seem to be passing away all the world over.\n\nIt is not easy to select instances that shall make clear to foreign readers\nthe Hindu reverence for the cow and the place that her protection from\ndeath holds as a sacramental ordinance. In Indian history the slaughter of\ncows by impious and impure persons has often been the beginning of battle,\nmurder, and sudden death. The chronicles of every State are full of\nretaliations for cow-murder, and in every local riot Hindu vengeance is\nfirst wreaked on the Muhammadan beef-butcher. Respect for the cow and\nloathing for the pig are the alpha and omega of the faith of thousands of\nHindus and Moslems of the lower orders. In purely Hindu States and in\nKashmir, where a Muhammadan population is ruled by a few Hindus, the\npunishment officially awarded for killing a cow is death, and there are\ncases on record where whole families have suffered death on suspicion of\nthe offence. The fat of the cow was said to be used in making a\nnewly-introduced cartridge, and so became an excuse for the Sepoy mutiny.\nThe cry most frequently raised by the Sikhs against the English in the days\nbefore the annexation of the Punjab was that they defiled the country by\nthe slaughter of kine. And it was probably this cry that most availed to\nraise the armies of the Punjab against us, for the Sikhs, like other\nreformed Hindus, have jealously preserved the cow as an object of\nreverence. One of the customary phrases used when pleading for mercy from a\ncreditor or a person in power is, \"You are a Brahman, I am a cow.\" That is\nto say, extend to me the same kind treatment that a cow receives.\n\nIn ordinary domestic life a Hindu who has accidentally killed a cow\nvoluntarily undergoes a painful penance. He is at once put out of caste and\nmust repair to the Ganges, no matter how long and toilsome the journey may\nbe. He must carry the cow's tail aloft at the end of a long staff, crying\naloud when approached so that all may avoid him as pollution incarnate. He\nmay not enter a village, but food is brought out to him when he halts on\nhis march. Arrived at the sacred river, he must pay fees, which he can\nfrequently but ill afford, to Brahmans for purifying rites, and he must eat\nand drink the five sacrificial products of the cow, which are not milk and\nbutter merely, and do not include beef.\n\nBut it is no crime to allow a barren and useless cow to die, nor is it\nwrong to starve a male calf to death. And cow-murder, in spite of all\nordinances, is one of the commonest offences of rustic life. The\nleather-dressers are a low caste of Hindus whose business is to skin the\nbodies of dead animals, which skins are their rightful perquisite. Leather\nis yearly increasing in value, and this low caste seems likely to rise. One\nspeaks of low-caste people in deference to common usage, but Western\nreaders will, I trust, be slow to believe that whole races of mankind are\nto be condemned to perpetual degradation because of their trade, or the\nofficial position it occupied in the once admirable Indian scheme. Among\nthese so-called low castes there is often a complete organisation, a\npriesthood and in some sort an aristocracy; and their caste disputes are\njust as intricate and jealous of points of honour as those of the \"twice\nborn\" folk. Nor is there any need to disguise the fact that the gift of\nfreedom bestowed for the first time on India by the British Government\nincludes the gradual alleviation of the disabilities of low degree, under\nwhich so many of the people have lain for ages. The change is coming about\nwithout shock to the general system, and is one of the inevitable results\nof education and life under free institutions. Some of the best artists and\ncraftsmen in India are of low caste, and there are those who resent their\nrise in life, but it is coming as surely as to-morrow's dawn.\n\nThe leather-dressers, then, who take the skins of animals which divide the\nhoof, consider themselves superior to those who skin horses and camels.\nThey are a most useful and laborious class; and, with education, will make\nvaluable citizens in time, but they have been known to hasten Nature's\ncourse by poisoning the cattle of the villagers among whom they live. With\ncurious casuistry they persuaded themselves that it was not cow-murder to\ninsert a skilfully poisoned thorn under the skin of an animal to cause a\nlingering death, nor to drop poisoned food within its reach, for they also\nwere Hindus and could not kill a cow outright. These are not exceptional\npractices, for in one prison at one time fifteen hundred leather-dressers\nhave been confined for cattle poisoning. Hindu villagers have been known to\nmake \"transactions\" with their dangerous neighbours. When the cattle were\nmysteriously dying (though the cause was no mystery), they summoned a\ncouncil and asked the leather-dressers for their opinion on the mortality.\nThe leather-dressers gravely replied that the village godlings, especially\nthose of their own peculiar caste, had been neglected, and that it would be\nwell to propitiate them. So a feast was made to the leather-dressers, and\ntheir godlings were propitiated by offerings; both sides going through an\nelaborate semi-religious farce with perfect gravity. Then the deaths would\ncease for a time. There is a class of English medical officers known as\nChemical Examiners to Government, whose researches have largely contributed\nto the detection and conviction of the cattle poisoners who for centuries\nhave taken a heavy toll on the beast life of the land. Many of the tricks\nthey have exposed must have been well known to the people, but even those\nwho had suffered most were reluctant to tell all they knew. A curious sign\nof the changing time is the fact that Hindus of good caste, seeing the\nprofit that may be made from leather, are quietly creeping into a business\nfrom which they are levitically barred. Money prevails against caste more\npotently than missionary preaching.\n\nThe elaborate damnations ordained by Brahmanical authority for cow-killing\nwill appear monstrous to a future generation of Hindus. Europeans smile no\nless at their assumption of knowledge of the future than at their grotesque\naccumulation of horrors and their amazing arrogance, but they are still\nreal and awful to the uneducated Hindu, in spite of his ingrained distrust\nof Brahmans. One of the characteristic contrasts of native life is the\ncontempt expressed in popular sayings for priestly authority, and the\nactual respect it receives. Cows are to be given to Brahmans, but they\nsay: \"When the cow goes dry or barren she is good enough for the Brahman,\"\nor \"a one-eyed cow is a Brahman's gift.\" A black cow is thought to be the\nmost acceptable, but the Brahman of to-day cannot afford to be particular.\nOf the idle wandering jogi, on the other hand, it is said \"even the care of\na cow is a bother to him.\"\n\nThe bull receives high honours as the v\u00e2han or steed of Shiva, and as such\nis known as _Nandi_, the happy one. This name belongs also to the carven\nstone bull which sits in state before the temples of Mahadeo or Siva, while\nthe small brazen bull forming part of an arrangement for the lustration of\na domestic Shiv or phallic emblem is known as _Nandigan_. Hindu devotees\nwho lead about bulls marked with Sivite emblems and supposed to be\nconsecrated to Mahadeo are called Anandis. In ordinary life the respect for\nthe bull finds quaint expression at times. A friend of mine was the owner\nof a fine sire of a choice breed, which he sent to fairs and cattle shows,\nwhere frequently some devout old woman would hang a garland of marigolds\nround its neck and go through the familiar actions of worship.\n\nThe ancient Hindu practice of releasing a bull has been referred to. This\nis still done on recovery from sickness, or as a propitiation, and is\ncalled a _p\u016dn_ or dedicatory offering. The orthodox practice is to present\nat the same time a heifer to the chief or Maha-Brahman. But it is said that\nthis part of the ceremony is frequently omitted, so that year by year the\nBrahman's dues fall off. _P\u016dn_ bulls have been useful as sires, but as the\npopulation increases and grazing areas contract, they are a doubtful\nblessing. In our Law Courts the question has been tried whether an animal\nset free to stray at will is an article of property. At first sight there\nwould seem to be no great harm in yoking the beast to cart or plough. But\nwhile Hindus acknowledge that such bulls may be a public nuisance and\nrather approve than otherwise of an English District Officer who is\nreported to have harnessed the dust-carts of a large municipality with\nsemi-sacred strays, it is quite another matter when a Muhammadan or a man\nof low caste seizes a _p\u016dn_ bull. The decisions of the courts were\ncontradictory. In one it was affirmed that the beast belonged to nobody,\nand might be appropriated to use, and in another that he was already\nproperty and not to be interfered with. Nor is it only as a bone of\ncontention that cattle enter Law Courts, for a very binding form of oath is\nsworn by pouring Ganges water on a cow's tail.\n\nOne of the most popular of the pictures sold at fairs is a composition\nknown as _Dharmr\u0101j_, a name of _Y\u0101ma_, the Hindu Pluto, and also used\nbroadly for Justice. The Judge is enthroned and demon executioners bring\nthe dead to receive their doom. The river of death flows on one side of the\npicture and those go safely across who hold a cow by the tail, while others\nare torn by terrible fishes. Chitrgupt, the clerk or recording angel of\nY\u0101ma, considered to be the ancestor of the _Kayasth_ or clerkly caste, sits\nin an office with account books exactly like those of a Hindu tradesman,\nand according to the record of each soul, punishments or rewards are given.\nFor, as a popular native saying has it,--\"God looks out of the window of\nheaven and keeps account.\" _Duts_ or executioners torture offenders, while\nthe blest sail upwards in air-borne chariots.\n\n[Illustration: KRISHNA ADORED BY THE GOPIS (FROM AN INDIAN PICTURE)]\n\nThe comparatively modern God Krishna is at the bottom of the popular liking\nfor cows. Here it may be again observed that the official mythology of the\nbooks known to Europeans gives but a faint idea of the actual estimates of\nthe Hindu Gods in the minds of the people. Krishna is a divinity, but he is\nmuch more. He is a man with a history, which is embroidered upon with all\nthat is most congenial to the Hindu imagination. The pranks of his youth,\nwhen he teased and bewitched the Gopis or celestial milkwomen, stole their\nbutter, entangled them in delirious dances, hid their clothes when they\nbathed in the river, and the like, are told in stories, acted in plays, and\nsung everywhere. A small brass figure of the baby Krishna crawling on hands\nand knees with an uplifted hand holding a pat of butter is known as the\n\"butter-thief,\" and is to be found in most Hindu houses. Every Hindu\nmother,--and no mothers are more tender and affectionate,--sees a beautiful\nand half divine Krishna in her baby boy and worships him with a devotion\nunbroken by the variety of interests, amusements, and occupations which\ndistract the mind of her Western sister.\n\nIt must be confessed that to a fresh occidental mind there is nothing so\ntiresome as a book of Hindu mythology. So it is unfortunate that books like\nthe _Prem S\u0101gur_ and other mythological stories are given as Hindi lesson\nbooks to subalterns and others who wish to pass examinations in the\nvernacular. An undiluted course of the classic mythology of Europe, shorn\nof all the allusions, historical elucidations, and modern interpretations\nwhich give it life would probably be almost as unattractive. The British\nschoolboy has harboured some hard thoughts about Apollo and Jupiter, but\nthey are nothing to the distaste which many Anglo-Indians conceive for\nKrishna and the rest, who appear as merely monstrous creations of a\ndisordered and sensuous fantasy. Seen on the nearer horizon of native life,\nKrishna is one of the most human of the manifold forms set up by mankind\nfor adoration; being a typical young Hindu, full of the popular conception\nof life, love, and beauty. It could not well be otherwise, for the God you\nmake must be in some sort the man you are or would like to be.\n\n[Illustration: KRISHNA DRIVES THE CATTLE HOME (FROM AN INDIAN PICTURE)]\n\nHe leans against a tree, attended by cows, playing the pipe that charmed\nthe frolicsome wives of the cowherds, and drives the cattle home to the\ngate of Bindraban in a thousand pictures exactly as to-day, save that he\nnow wears a turban instead of a crown. And, as in the pictures, he wields a\nstaff. Sanctity confers no immunity from the stick. One of the first\nduties a country child learns is to drive and beat cattle. They are docile\nenough and need no beating, but, from infancy, children are encouraged to\nshoulder as heavy a stick as they can carry and to use it unmercifully. The\nzeal of a child in rendering service is usually one of the most beautiful\nthings in life, but, though the father applauds, it is an ugly sight to see\na tiny boy belabouring a cow or ox with all his little strength, while\nlisping gross terms of abuse learnt from his parents. That he may not be\nable to inflict much pain is no extenuation of a practice which has\nhardened the people in a stupid abuse of the stick.\n\nBut while it is lawful for a Hindu to take a stick to his cow, it is in the\nhighest degree improper for him to kick it. One of the curses invoked in\nthe R\u0101m\u0101yana on those who approve of the exile of R\u0101ma is,--\"may he touch a\ncow with his feet!\"--and so incur the deepest Brahmanical damnation. To\nstumble over a sleeping cow is still held unlucky, but not, as formerly, a\ndeadly sin. There is no prohibition against kicking an ox.\n\nThe beauty of the cow counts almost as much as her usefulness in popular\nestimation, and the best breeds are really handsome. It is true that a\nBritish amateur, accustomed to the level back of the English beast, at\nfirst looks unfavourably on the hump and the falling hind-quarter. The head\nseems too large and the body too short. But he acknowledges at once the\nclean, thoroughbred legs, the fine expression of the eye, the air of\nbreeding in the broad convex brow and slender muzzle, the character given\nby the deep thin dewlap, the smooth mole-like skin, and in the large breeds\nan undefinable majesty of mien. In addition to their high caste and shapely\nlook, the hind legs are much straighter and less \"cow-hocked\" than those of\nthe English animal, and are not swung so far out in trotting. On occasion\nthe animal can jump a fence with a carriage of the limbs like that of the\nhorse. So in a very short time the Briton drops his prejudices and is even\nreconciled to the hump, which, like that of the camel and the fat tail of\nthe _d\u016bmba_ sheep, has some mysterious relation to the varying conditions\nof a precarious food supply. They say vaguely it is a reserve of\nsustenance, but it would take a physiologist to explain how it acts. Some\ninsist that the sloping quarter is the result of ages of scanty or\nirregular feeding, but it is now, at all events, a fixed anatomical\npeculiarity. Indian cattle breed freely with European stock, but it is not\nyet settled whether improvement in milking power, which is all it seems\nworth while to cross for, is really promoted by a strain of European blood.\nExperiments of this kind have been tried in the hills, where the tiny\nmountain cattle are absurdly poor milkers. The small Styrian or some of the\nSwiss or Scandinavian breeds would probably be best suited for this\npurpose. Some fine English beasts have been imported into the burning\nplains, where falling into the hands of natives of position, they have been\npromptly killed by over-feeding, heat, and want of exercise. Moreover the\nEnglish beast, bred for beef, is only shapely from a butcher's point of\nview. The British butcher and farmer are more pedantic than Greek\ngrammarians, but happily their lore and standards of beauty are\ninapplicable to India.\n\nIt is with the cattle as with the people of India, the more you learn about\nthem the more you find to interest you. But in regard to the cow and the ox\none's admiration is unstinted, nor need it be qualified by hesitation and\nreserve. To the stranger the great variety of breeds and their adaptation\nto a wide range of needs and conditions are not at first apparent. He sees\nan ox and another ox as he sees a native and another native, without\nnoticing that they belong to distinct families. Orientals have a passion\nfor classifying things, and see scores of differences in rice, cotton,\nwheat, cattle, and horses, which are barely perceptible even to trained\nEnglish eyes. But among cattle, though there is a bewildering variety of\nlocal breeds, some broad differences may be easily learned. The backward\nslope of the horns of the large and small breeds of Mysore cattle,--perhaps\nthe most popular type in use,--the royal bearing of the splendid white or\nfawn oxen of Guzerat, and the transport and artillery cattle bred in the\nGovernment farms at once strike the eye. These are the aristocrats of the\nrace, but they have appetites proportioned to their size and are too costly\nfor the ordinary cultivator. They trot in bullock coaches or draw the\nspringless and uncomfortable but delightfully picturesque native _r\u0103th_ or\ncanopied ox-cart, the wagons of the Government commissariat and of the\nvarious Government baggage services. On the wide alluvial plains, where the\npeople are thickly planted, a small, slender, and colourless cow seems to\nbe the usual poor man's animal. The well-to-do keep breeds with foreign\nnames and of stouter build. On the great basin of volcanic trap or basalt,\nwhich includes much of Western India, the cattle are more square in shape,\nlarge in bone, and varied in colour.\n\n[Illustration: PUNJAB BAILI (SPRINGLESS OX-CART)]\n\nThe richer pastures and cold winters of Kashmir and the hill country near\ndevelop a sturdy, square-headed, short-legged race with a coarse coat like\nthat of the English cow. In the Him\u00e1laya, where the grass is deficient in\nnourishing power, there are breeds of tiny, neatly formed animals with\ncoats that look like black or brown cotton velvet. These pasture on the\nmountain-side, climbing almost as cleverly as goats, and their grazing\npaths, trodden for centuries, have covered leagues of steep slope with a\nscale-work pattern of wonderful regularity when seen from far. Cattle are\nsent to the uplands to graze in the hot weather and some good sorts are\nsystematically bred in the inter-India hills, but the beast at its best is\na true Hindu of the hot plains. The \"green country\" in the Punjab, the\nKistna river in the south, and those gardens of India, Oudh and Guzerat,\nproduce the finest breeds.\n\n[Illustration: COMPARATIVE SIZES OF THE LARGEST AND SMALLEST BREEDS OF\nINDIAN OXEN]\n\n[Illustration: THE BOMBAY REKLA]\n\nI have sketched a diagram which shows roughly the range of size. Still\nlarger beasts than the largest shown occur at times. The smallest\nrepresents a miniature race, not much bigger than Newfoundland dogs, but\nexquisitely finished in every detail of ox form and full of life and\nspirit. When harnessed to vehicles of a suitable size these tiny creatures\ntrot at a great pace. All Indian oxen can be trained to trot. The sloping\nquarter and straight hock may possibly count for something in their more\nhorse-like gait. Between these two extremes are breeds of every possible\nsize, adapted for many uses. An old Anglo-Indian can scarcely be trusted to\nrecall the freshness of first impressions; but that one of the first things\nto strike a stranger is the hurrying ox was proved by a distinguished\nEnglish tourist, who told me of the interest and amusement he found in the\ntraffic of Bombay streets, especially in the _rekla_, a small hack carriage\nhere sketched. The neatness of this vehicle, its sensible canopy to protect\nthe backs of the cattle from the sun, its low fares, its speed, and the\ncontinual cry of the driver, impressed my friend so much that he was\ninclined to describe it as the Hindu hansom. So it is,--in usage; but it is\nreally of Portuguese descent, for the Hindu, left to himself, never dreamed\nof springs. Nor is it the only good thing that Western India owes to the\nPortuguese.\n\nThe points of cows and oxen, their varieties of horn, breed, shape, and\ncharacter are expressed in a multitude of sayings whose darkness and\nesoteric quality seem at times to justify the son of Sirach in asking--how\ncan they be wise whose talk is of oxen? Many of the canons in use are the\nunimpeachable result of ages of observation and experience, but others seem\nto be merely fantastic nonsense referring to trivial accidents of hair,\nhorn, or colour. A jumbling of sternest use and wildest fancy is one of the\nmost bewildering of Oriental traits. The cultivator, who, by the\nnecessities of his life, is sordidly practical, will at one and the same\nmoment deliver himself of a grim sweat-and-blood axiom, born of penury and\nedged with despair, and some blind blundering ineptitude which, though\nsanctioned by immemorial usage, could be disproved by five minutes'\nobservation of fact. And the language in which these sayings are shaped is\nstrangely and sometimes almost unintelligibly elliptical and idiomatic.\nThey have been turned over in so many mouths that only the bare bones of\nmeaning are left, and are so perplexed by broad, local dialects that an\naccustomed ear is needed for their comprehension.\n\nThere is no shorter cut to the goodwill of the cultivator than an\ninstructed interest in cattle. In the West, too, strangers will fraternise\nwhile handling an animal with judicious appreciation of its points. It\nshould be remembered, however, that rustic cattle are not used to Europeans\nand dislike their odour,--or lack of odour. A saying runs, \"Keep seven\ncubits distance from an elephant, five from a horned beast, twenty from a\nwoman, and thirty from a drunken man,\"--and, in so far as concerns the\nbeast, the advice is doubly applicable to European amateurs. To be fair,\nthe Indian animal is naturally inoffensive, and always gives warning of\nirritation by a peculiar hissing snort. I once afforded some amusement to a\ngroup of friends by disregarding this sound. We were on a walking trip at\nthe foot of the Western Ghauts, and inquired the way up the Bhau Mullen\nhill from a boy in charge of a string of empty pack oxen. While talking to\nhim I noticed he was in difficulties with his leading beast, a little black\nbull with villainously sharp horns, who hissed like a wild cat and\npresently broke away and came at me with head down. I presented my open\nwhite umbrella and dodged aside, but the creature still came on, so I\njumped one of the high-banked dykes of the dry rice-fields among which we\nwere walking, but he came over too, jumping as smartly and cleverly as an\nEnglish hunter; so I took another \"lep\" and another, while he followed with\ntail brandished aloft, warming to the chase with each presentation of the\numbrella and each dodging turn and leap. At last he became entangled with\nhis empty packs, and his driver secured him, while I breathlessly rejoined\nmy friends, who were doubled up in helpless laughter, vowing that neither\ncircus nor bull-fight was ever half so entertaining. Not being a spectator,\nI missed the cream of the joke.\n\nWith natives both cows and oxen are usually placid enough, and very few\ncases of goring are reported. Calves are handled freely, the mother\nscarcely noticing it, except when the intruder is a stranger. But the\nright of the cow to resent interference with her calf is recognised in\npopular talk. This indeed is the case in England, among all sensible\nfarmers. I heard of one, the other day, whose son, handling a calf, was\nseverely horned by the mother. A lady calling on the farmer sympathised\nwith his son's misfortune and used very strong expressions as to the\nabominable behaviour of the cow. The farmer listened and at last said in a\njudicial tone: \"Why, no, marm;--the cow were in her dooty, for we must all\npurtect our yong.\" There is a touch of the Roman father as well as of the\nnatural philosopher in this wise saying, for though the son was sore in bed\nand the parent was sorry for him, he knew that those who are skilful in cow\nmanagement seldom suffer from their horns.\n\nCattle are made to take part in curious rites, and enjoy many holidays of a\nsemi-religious kind, when they are adorned with necklaces of marigolds and\njessamine, and printed on flank and shoulder with an open hand dipped in\nred, so that a modern Moses might be moved to wrath by something very like\ncow-worship. Nor is this to be wondered at when the value of milk, which\ntakes a high and most important place in the Indian food scale is\nconsidered. \"Cows' milk is as Mothers' milk\" say the women. \"Milk and\nchildren are from fortune\" is another of their sayings. \"May you bathe in\nmilk and rear many children\" is a benediction among women,[2] and in pure\npride a swaggerer will say, \"I have drunk more milk than you will ever get\nof water\"--in other words, I have always been well off, while you are a\nscrub. When a cow is milked into the hollow of the hand, the milk, drunk\nat once, is supposed to be peculiarly nourishing in quality. \"One can stand\na kick from one's cow when she is in milk\" has possibilities of application\nbeyond mere cows. Of a hungry country it is said, \"One doesn't even get\nsparrow's milk there.\" A Bengal saying recalling the French \"When the cork\nis drawn, the wine must be drunk\" is, \"Milk once drawn from the dug never\ngoes back.\" A relic of the Vedic times lingers in the name _Kamdhain_\napplied to cows that are exceptionally good milkers. _Kamdhenu_ was the\nwondrously productive cow of Indra that granted all desires.\n\n[Footnote 2: Mr. B. Malabari mentions having heard this benediction\npronounced in Durbar over the present Gaekwar of Baroda.]\n\n[Illustration: COW AND CALF]\n\nThere is propriety and sense in the sort of reverence that the poor of most\ncountries pay to God's gifts of food. Milk has a large share of this\nwholesome elemental respect in India. \"When a cow or buffalo is first\nbought,\" writes Mr. Denzil Ibbetson, \"or when she first gives milk after\ncalving, the first five streams are allowed to fall on the ground in honour\nof the Earth-mother, or goddess,\"--a widely worshipped deity,--\"and at\nevery time of milking the first stream is so treated.\" The last is a\ncustom, however, as much honoured in the breach as in the observance.\nHindus of the old school complain of the decay under our educational system\nof pious household ritual and beliefs. Among these is a rustic observance\nof bread breaking. The first piece is for the cow, the second for the dog,\nand the third for the crow. The cow's piece must not be bitten or mangled,\nbut the dog and the crow are expected to take what they can get with\ngratitude. Regret for the old order as it changes is natural enough, but\nwith the harmless and the good some evil is also passing away; for God\nfulfils himself in many ways.\n\nGhi, which is butter boiled to make it keep, is no less esteemed than milk,\nand stands figuratively as it serves in fact, for richness and well-being.\nWhere we should say that a man lives in clover, they say, \"He has five\nfingers in the ghi.\" Usually by frugal people one or two fingers only are\nput into the pot. Another saying is: \"A straight finger extracts no ghi,\"\n_i.e._ one must go judiciously (or crookedly) to work in order to get\nanything worth having. A precarious livelihood is expressed by, \"Sometimes\na handful of ghi and sometimes a mouthful of lentils.\" The French gibe at\nEngland,--\"a hundred religions and only one sauce,\"--(melted butter) may be\nwarrantable, but it is mere everyday fact in India, where the food would be\nbut sorry and innutritious fare without the mercy of ghi. The prosperity of\na man is often gauged by his indulgence in ghi, which has an infallible\neffect on the figure. Vegetarian Hindus have a natural tendency to eat too\nmuch, and a gaunt cultivator will point to a fat and prosperous tradesman\nas a ghi-fed bullock. It will be observed that the hand is always spoken\nof, and in fact the hand is always used. A Sikh peasant making you\nwelcome, will bring a bowl of milk, strongly impregnated with the wood\nsmoke with which milk vessels are purified, and, after he has put in some\nsugar, will stir it with his fingers in the most friendly way. One of the\nmany compromises with the ordinances of caste, that make things pure or\nimpure, is their relaxation with reference to sweetmeats compounded of\nsugar and ghi, an important part of the food of the people. The\nconfectioner is a man of no very exalted caste, but all may eat from his\nhand. He abuses this privilege of reputed purity, and is in fact more dirty\nin his person and more thoroughly saturated with the grease he handles than\nthere is any occasion for. One agent in the vast battery of elements that\nproduces the characteristic Indian odour of Indian cities and crowds is the\nuse of ghi as hair oil and as a lubricant for the skin after bathing. In\nthe south oil is much used for these purposes, but in most regions ghi is\npopular, nor is it unwholesome except to the alien nose.\n\nWealth may be no longer expressed in terms of the cow, but the possession\nof cows is accepted as a sign of being well-to-do. So the freedom from care\nwhich is one of the alleviations of poverty, is stated in, \"He sleeps well\nwho has neither cow nor calf.\" Where we should say \"The early bird catches\nthe worm,\" the Indian rustic says \"Who sleeps late gets the bull-calf, he\nwho rises early the cow-calf,\"--which is more valuable. The saying\nindicates the division of property among members of a family living\ntogether. An early rising brother or cousin could change his bull for the\ncow-calf of his lazy relative who ought to have been on the spot to look\nafter it, or a knavish neighbour might surreptitiously swap the new\nbirths.\n\nBewitched cattle are not peculiar to benighted India, but may be heard of\neven in Britain of the Board school. There is a more profound conviction in\nEastern superstitions, further intensified by the ever-present notion that\nonce the beast was man. A current story tells how a poor man borrowed a sum\nof money far beyond his power to repay. Lying anxiously awake at night\namong his oxen, he heard one say that the master would surely serve the\nmoney-lender as an ox in the future life. So he rose and questioned that\nwise bullock, who said: \"Return the money to the usurer, and, since you are\nin need, take me to the king and back me for that sum to fight his champion\nelephant.\" This was done; the amazed king accepted the wager of his\nfighting elephant against a lean ox, and the beasts were paraded in the\narena. The elephant ignominiously fled from the bullock, who snorted and\npawed the ground in meagre majesty. So the king paid the wager and the\nelephant confessed that in a previous existence he had borrowed a large sum\nand still owed it to the man who was now that starveling bullock. Our\nEnglish notions on this subject are mainly those of Mrs. Barbauld's tiny\nbut charming classic, _The transmigrations of Indur_, but to the native\nmind the wandering soul has a more complex and disquieting fate than is\nthere indicated. The old birth stories of Buddhism, also, are milder and\nless stern in retributive vengeance than many notions actually current.\nDire strokes of bereavement or misfortune, and grievous diseases, such as\nleprosy, inflict a keener anguish, a more hopeless sorrow, when regarded as\npunishments for sin committed in some past life.\n\nThese ideas are not distinctively Hindu in their main issue, which is the\nvulgar demon belief that sends the souls of those who have died by violence\nor in child-birth, or who in life showed strong character, to plague or\nprotect the living. In Tibet, under the name of Buddha, there now seems to\nbe no other religion; American Indians know it as well as the Indo-Chinese,\nand though educated Hindus hint that it is a degradation of Hinduism, it\nseems to have preceded Hinduism and to have flourished alongside it. At the\npresent moment demonolatry is the real, everyday faith of thousands who\nprofess either Hinduism or Muhammadanism for an official, Sunday creed.\nSnake demons, animated by the souls of \"kenned folk\" deceased, are supposed\nto be charged with the protection of cattle and are regularly worshipped. A\ncultivator's wife, seeing a snake, will say in effect \"O dear! I have\nforgotten his dues,\" and will make offerings of milk and curds with quaint\nformalities. Yet all the eldritch mischiefs attributed to fays and goblins\nin our old English literature are wrought on cattle by witch and wizard.\nThe evil eye is potent to cripple and kill, nor are Muhammadans a whit more\nfree from fear than Hindus. So you may see an old shoe,--emblem of\nhumiliation,--hung like an amulet round the neck of a Muhammadan's buffalo,\nor a black thread round that of his cow. Hindus tie amulets and charms\nround the necks of their cows, or secretly, with invocations, twist strands\nof human hair round the roots of the horns or on the fetlock and with\nspells and charms innumerable try to ward off evil. But though devoutly\nbelieved in, the people are not readily communicative about these things.\nHalf their force lies in their secrecy. The charm would no longer act if it\nwere blabbed about. So it were presumption to speak too confidently of the\ndetails of this phase of Oriental thought, which, like water as described\nby modern physical science, flows in hidden and undivulged courses as well\nas in the sun-lighted rivers of the surface. It is also unwise to angrily\ndenounce these notions as some clever and positive young Britons are prone\nto do. For, after all, they were current but yesterday, and indeed are\nstill alive, among very excellent people in these islands.\n\nWhen cattle are sick or disabled they are doctored and treated with great,\nbut unintentional barbarity. A European should hesitate before condemning a\nnative practice for its unlikeness to anything within his knowledge, for it\nhas the experience of centuries for a warrant. Yet, while admitting the\nIndian discovery and use of many valuable medicines, it is not too much to\nsay broadly that native notions on sanitation and the treatment of disease\nin men and animals amount in practice to a conspiracy against the public\nhealth. The cruelty they involve is only an incident. When spells and\ncharms have failed, the branding iron and knife are freely used. Sometimes\nyou see a broad line burnt and cut right round the body of an old ox as a\nPlimsoll load line is drawn round the hull of a ship, while each deeply\nsunken eye has a cruel circle seared round its orbit. Curious patterns of\ngridirons, Solomon stars, and mystic marks of Siva are scored deeply over\nstrained shoulders and muscles whose only disease is the stiffness of age\nor the weakness of imperfect feeding. Great importance is attached to the\nform of the brand, which is often a signature of a God. A flower pattern is\ngood for one disease, a palm for another. The ears are sometimes slit as a\nremedy for colic. Then there is a grotesque nastiness of invention in the\nmedicinal messes the poor beasts are made to swallow, and a perverse\ningenuity in running counter to the plain course of nature. I remember\nbeing told that our cow which had recently calved was suddenly taken sick\nand like to die. The cowman had decided that she was suffering from an\nunusual form of deadly fever. So in the fierce hot weather he had shut her\nup in a close byre, stuffed the window with rags and straw, carefully\nclosed the door, and happed her in thick clothing. She was very like to die\nindeed, but recovered promptly on being rescued from heat and suffocation.\nAn amazing ignorance of elementary facts is often shown. A case recently\noccurred in which a cultivator, familiar with cattle, called in a\ncountryside quack to his sick cow. The practitioner opened the animal's\nmouth and, drawing forth the tongue, showed the rough papill\u00e6 at its root.\n\"This is what is the matter with her,--these rough things must be cut off.\"\nAnd the poor creature's tongue was actually shaved! It would be easy to\nfill many pages with similar horrors, but I would rather be read than cast\naside in disgust, and gladly turn to such hopeful signs as may be\ndiscerned.\n\nThe veterinary schools and colleges with animal infirmaries attached,\nestablished by Government in the great cities, are doing something towards\nthe spread of sounder notions. Improvement must be slow, but it is well on\nits way. The West can offer no more precious gift to the East than a\nknowledge of the nature and treatment of disease in men and animals. Yet\nhope were not, if not dashed by doubt, and no one who knows India can\nafford to be over-confident. For the worst enemies of medical science are\nnot there, as in Europe, the enthusiast and the quack who pin their loud\nfaith on one imperfectly apprehended idea or one nostrum, but the apathy of\nthe people and their rooted habit of negligence.\n\nIt is natural that many things should be likened to so necessary and\nsacred a creature as the cow, but some of the similes appear far-fetched to\nthe Western mind. Thus a house with a narrow frontage and wide behind,--an\nauspicious arrangement,--is spoken of as cow-mouthed. In the Hindu ear the\nmere word is grateful, for the Ganges itself is said to issue from a \"cow's\nmouth\" up in the hills, and there are many sacred wells and stream pools\nknown as cows' mouths. An upper window is a cow's eye, like the French _\u0153il\nde b\u0153uf_, an oval loaf of bread like one of the forms of Vienna bread in\nLondon shops, is known as ox-eye, and things which taper are \"cow-tail\nfashion.\" One of the words in use for evening means, when hunted down,\n\"cows' dust,\" and indicates the return of the cattle to the village.\nCow-like means docile and meek, \"girls and cows are easily disposed of,\"\nsays an over-confident proverb which Western mothers can scarcely adopt,\nand the varying tempers of cows find antitypes in women. \"Muttra girls and\nGokul cows won't stir if they can help it,\" says rustic Hindustan.\nEverywhere, a big stout woman is spoken of as \"that buffalo,\" for all round\nthe world there is a lumbering type of generally admirable womanhood to\nwhom the word is exquisitely suited. One of the drawbacks of polite society\nis that the use of picturesque and truth-telling similes of this kind is\ndiscouraged. We all know excellent ladies who remind us of camels, devoted\nmothers who suggest cows, charming girls who are as fawns or gazelles,\nsharp grandames who are like hawks, eagles, or parrots, placid women who\nbleat timidly over wool-work, fussy, movement-promoting ladies who cluck\nlike hens and throw up their eyes at meetings like fowls when they drink;\njust as we know men who are pigs, asses, foxes, goats, dogs, etc.--but we\nmay not often say so. The Oriental rustic is under no such restraint, so\npepper is added to the natural salt of his talk.\n\n[Illustration: AT SUNSET]\n\n    _Between the waving tufts of jungle grass,\n    Up from the river as the twilight falls,\n    Across the dust-beclouded plain they pass\n            On, to the village walls._\n\n    _Great is the sword and mighty is the pen,\n    But greater far the labouring ploughman's blade,\n    For on its oxen and its husbandmen\n            An Empire's strength is laid._\n\nAs to the actual treatment of the cow, although some strange and\nindescribable forms of cruelty are practised by milkmen in large towns with\nintent to increase the supply of milk, and the animals are often kept in a\nfilthy state; the beast fares on the whole as well as the means of her\nowners will allow. When, as often happens, a poor family owns one cow, it\ntakes a high place in all the concerns of the household, and is even more\ncherished than the Irish cottager's pig. The cow-calf too is often petted\nand made much of. \"Six handfuls to the cow-calf and one to the poor\nlabouring ox\" is a Kashmiri cry against injustice quoted in the collection\nof the Rev. J. H. Knowles. But male calves have a hard life and suffer\nterribly from imperfect nutrition. It is a deed of some temerity to find\nfault with practices based on centuries of usage and experience, but the\ntreatment of the labourers of the land is a custom of cruelty. Indian cows,\nowing to the slack-handed management congenial to the people, are difficult\nmilkers, and need at their flank a living calf or a straw-stuffed calf-skin\n(the latter is not unknown in Europe) before they will let down their milk.\nThe living calf is preferred, and Tantalus himself was not more tormented\nby baffled longing than are these poor wretches, hungrily watching the\nstream they may not taste. It is not always profitable to rear a male calf,\nso the practice, in spite of a theory which allots him a fair share, seems\nto be to three-quarters starve him on the chance of his surviving to be\nweaned. Then, in due course, he becomes an ox--the chief pillar of the\nIndian Empire.\n\nAnd in no merely rhetorical sense, for the stress of agriculture, the more\nurgent strain of trade, and the movement of a vast and restless people, are\non his strong shoulders. The cultivator is the backbone of the country, and\ndepends on the ox for working the land, while the bullock cart in a great\nvariety of forms is the main factor in Indian traffic. Hence, one of the\nmost pleasant and vivid sensations of the returned Anglo-Indian is the\nsight of the superb draught horses of Britain, perhaps the most striking\nimpersonations of the dignity of labour that the world can show. Necessity\nis a hard task-master for the man, but it is on his beast that the worst\nstrokes fall. Loads have to be carried, and even if the carter were so\nminded, he cannot always contrive that they shall be proportioned to the\nstrength of his animals. A load that travels easily over the hard roads of\na town becomes impossible along the deep-mired village tracks. And when the\noverloaded wain is stuck fast there is dire trouble for the cattle. Even a\nfather chastising his child sometimes forgets how hard he is striking, but\nin their excitement carters never think of the live sentient animal under\ntheir blows. The cattle are but a machine whose motor is the stick. Then, a\npoor man cannot afford to lay his animals up in idleness when their necks\nare galled or they go lame. They wince from the yoke at first, but seem to\nforget it as they grow warm. So does the carter, who is a marvel of apathy\nand indifference, especially since he is often a hireling. Weak and tired\noxen can be made to work better with a free use of whip, stick, or goad,\nand in judicious and merciful hands such incentives are useful. But there\nis no precept to protect the ox from abuse of them, save perhaps that\nenunciated by a Bombay Police Magistrate in deciding a case of cruelty.\n\"There are,\" said this authority, \"fair goads and there are severe goads.\nThe only question is whether in this particular case the goad is a fair one\nor not.\" The weapon in court was a sharpened nail three-quarters of an inch\nlong at the end of a stick. \"In my opinion,\" the Magistrate went on, \"this\nis longer and sharper than it ought to have been. A goad of half its length\nwould have done quite as well.\" So the accused was warned and discharged.\nBut the real question before the Magistrate was whether the carter had used\nhis goad too freely. For needless pain can be inflicted with even\nthree-eighths of an inch of sharpened iron at the end of a heavy male\nbamboo, if used often enough, and it is certainly sufficient to drive into\nany of God's creatures. Carters who know their business thoroughly, and are\nto be trusted with whips and goads three-eighths of an inch long, are\neverywhere scarce, and most of all in India. But the whip and the goad are\nnot the only means of stimulation at the carter's disposal. He sits low so\nthat he can kick freely, and he kicks hard. And when other means fail he\nseizes the tails of his team and twists them so that the last four or five\nvertebr\u00e6 grind on each other. Immense numbers of Indian oxen, probably the\ngreater part, have their tails permanently dislocated by this practice, and\nbob-tailed bullocks are often seen who have entirely lost the lower joints\nof the member, including the necessary fly-whisk with which it was\noriginally furnished. Bullocks are probably less sensitive to pain than\nhuman creatures, but their pitiful efforts to keep their tails out of the\nway, and the prompt effect the brutal trick has upon their pace show that\nthey also can feel.\n\n\"Tail-twisting\" has found its way into Anglo-Indian slang. Officers of the\nTransport and Commissariat departments are spoken of as tail-twisters, and\nthere are even members of Her Majesty's Civil Service who are said to need\ntail-twisting to keep them up to their work.\n\n[Illustration: PLOUGHING]\n\nYet, while one cannot but grieve for the ox, it is obvious to every fair\nmind that there must be something to say for the man. He is no more brutal\nof himself than the rest of mankind of his rank. Generally a thoughtless\nlout, insensible by habit, he is not always wilfully cruel. The truth is,\nthe bullock, without good training, is not an easy beast to drive. Only by\npractical experiment can this truth be fully learned, and before wholly\ncondemning the driver it is a wholesome experience to take his place for\nan hour. Well-trained cattle may be driven even by an amateur, but\nnine-tenths of Indian teams would scarcely pay him the compliment of\nstirring unless he resorted to tail-twisting and beating. The strength of\nthe ox is magnificent, and he can plod along steadily with good driving,\nbut he has none of the zeal which animates the horse. The latter may be, as\nsome say, a born fool, but when fairly taught to pull he gives his mind to\nit and, if of a good sort, goes up into his collar at half a word. The\nbullock, a cogitative ruminant, seems to be thinking of something else all\nthe time, and has to be perpetually stirred out of his normal indifference.\nThat the main need of the ox is more intelligent training and teaching is\nshown by the skill which some men attain in bullock steering. A click, a\ntock, and a hand laid persuasively on the rump is enough for these rare\nartists, who are as clever in their way as some London drivers. The average\ncartman has not sense, patience, or skill enough to train his team, and\nrelies on the sudden pain of whiplash, twisted tail, or goad. But to put it\nplainly, in so far as the well-being of the animal is concerned, it is as\nbad to be a duffer as a brute. Very many Indian carters are both.\n\nA cultivator, on the other hand, ploughing or harrowing, will often work\nhis cattle for hours together without a blow. His hand will be frequently\nraised to the level of his brow as if in act to strike, and he is\ncontinually talking, coaxing, cursing, or expostulating in very broad\nlanguage, but he is not very often cruel. He is apt to make pets of one or\ntwo of his animals and to cherish a spite against some poor beast, who\nserves as \"whipping boy\" for the faults of the rest and as an outlet for\ninjurious language. Yet, though his cattle are his own, he habitually\noverloads the carts they draw, and in moments of excitement he hammers them\nunmercifully.\n\n[Illustration: IN TIME OF DROUGHT]\n\n    BESIDE THE IDLE PLOUGH\n\n    THE STARVELING OXEN STAND\n\n    AND DEATH WILL GATHER NOW\n\n    A HARVEST FROM THE LAND.\n\n                       Rudyard Kipling.\n\nThe close association of the ploughman with his cattle, the slow steady\ntramp at their heels over the field and over again in infinite turns, has\ngiven a bovine quality to the minds of those who follow the plough all\nround the world. Perhaps the Irish potato-digging cottier, the English\nmarket gardener, the French vine-dresser and spade cultivators generally,\nare smarter and more alert. The lagging, measured step may compel the mind\nto its cadence, and the anodyne of monotony may soothe and still the\ntemper. However this may be, it is certain that the Indian cultivator is\nvery like his ox. He is patient, and bears all that drought, flood, storm,\nand murrain can do with the same equanimity with which the ox bears blows.\nWhen the oxen chew the cud and their masters take their nooning, the jaws\nof man and beast move in exactly the same manner. The succulent food of the\nWest, rich and full of flavour, is eaten with a closed mouth, while\nappreciative lips, palate, and tongue relieve the teeth from hard labour.\nBut the Indian peasant's dry thick cake of millet or wheaten meal must be\nsteadily chewed, completely milled and masticated before it can be\nswallowed, and it is only when it is touched with ghi or dipped in stewed\nvegetables or pulse that the lips close on a morsel with any semblance of\ngourmandise. And, as the ox drinks once for all, so the peasant, when he\nhas eaten, drinks; a long draught, poured straight into the depths of him,\nas one who fills a cistern. Like the peasant, too, the ox is indifferent\nand devoid of curiosity. The horse is always ready with an apprehensive\near; eager, for all his shallow wit, to know what is going on, but the ox\nkeeps on never minding. So does the peasant. It is not easy to convey a due\nsense of the serene indifference of the cultivator (and of most Indians) to\nthe mind of readers in England where there are hundreds of fussy societies\nfor minding other people's business. The Oriental would be just as puzzled\nto understand the English craze for meddling, but he may one day undergo a\nrueful enlightenment. A current saying shows the queer turns this\nindifference takes. \"The field wasn't yours, the cow wasn't yours,--why did\nyou drive it away?\" This is profoundly immoral, of course. A cow is loose\nin a field of green corn, a philanthropic person comes by and does justice,\nbut the peasant, who also has a cornfield liable to straying cows, resents\nit and wants to know why the fussy person need interfere! That the\ntrespasser was a cow and not a donkey has something to do with it, but\nthere is more than respect for the cow in the saying.\n\n[Illustration: IN A GOOD SEASON]\n\n    AND THE PLOUGHMAN SETTLED THE SHARE\n\n    MORE DEEP IN THE SUN-DRIED CLOD:\n\n    THE WHEAT AND THE CATTLE ARE ALL MY CARE\n\n    AND THE REST IS THE WILL OF GOD\n\n                            Rudyard Kipling.\n\nIn a large and historic sense the indifference of the Indian countryman to\nthe wars of Kings and Powers overhead may seem less wonderful to those who\nhave an intimate knowledge of the conduct of European peasantry during\ncontinental campaigns than to us who consider Indian history mainly. But\nwhile ploughing in one field he has scarcely raised his head to watch a\nbattle in the next. So it has been seen when three great elephants,\nharnessed to 40-lb. guns of position, refused to risk their precious trunks\nwithin the zone of fire, that twenty yoke of oxen tugged the field-piece\namong the bursting shells and whizzing shot as impassively as if they were\ngoing afield. There is more in this than mere stupidity. The Mogul, the\nAfgh\u0101n, the Pind\u0101ri, the Briton, and the mutinous Sepoy, with others, have\nswept to and fro as the dust-storm sweeps the land, but the corn must be\ngrown and the folk and cattle must be fed, and the cultivator waits with\ninflexible patience till the will of heaven be accomplished and he may turn\nagain to the toil to which he is appointed. A toil, too, in which he feels\nas much pride as any other of the labouring sons of Adam can boast. This is\nfinely put in a country saying of the Punjab Jat, a farmer who, take him\nfor all in all, is perhaps the noblest Roman of them all, \"The Jat stood on\nhis heap of corn and cried to the King's elephant drivers--Will you sell\nthose little donkeys?\"\n\nOxen are careful of their rights and go in due order to the long manger\ntrough of adobe. If one takes the wrong place he is promptly set right by a\nhorn thrust. Here the cultivator surpasses his model, for he loves\nlitigation and enjoys nothing so much as a quarrel.\n\nQuarrels, by the way, between different families and within the family\ncircle, in which the women take a noisy part, are often, I firmly believe,\ndeliberately raised as a variety on the deadly monotony of life. In English\nlow life the virago who stands with arms akimbo and harangues the\nalley,--\"flytes\" is the Scotch term,--often says she couldn't rest till she\nhad given forth a piece of her mind, and is notably better after a row.\nIndian households prepare and conduct a quarrel with more artistic skill,\nuse a more copious and pungent vocabulary, range over a wider field of\nvituperation, and are less liable to lapse into that personal violence\nwhich is the death of true art. Straying calves and goats serve the men as\ncauses of war, and children inflame the women. \"Why can't you let my child\nalone?\" is no uncommon war-cry in the slums of Britain, and when emotion is\na necessity of your nature, it serves well enough; for a fire may be fed\nwith many things. The man's share when women go on the war-path in India,\nas elsewhere, is often to stand aside, see fair, and hold the baby. So he\npretends to be shocked and in various phrase remarks \"When a widow (or a\nlight lady), a wife, or a bull buffalo lose their tempers, who knows what\nmay happen!\" The wide currency of this saying proves its aptness to a\nsocial situation.\n\nHe also says \"a drum, a boor, a low-caste man, cattle, and women are all\nthe better for a beating.\" Our half-forgotten saw of like brutality\nincludes the woman with the dog and the walnut tree. A worse class of\nsayings refers to the sordid nature of Hindu marriages: \"You buy a wife and\nyou buy oxen;\" \"Wives and oxen are to be had for money,\" and so forth. It\nwould be idle to pretend to make out a good case for this phase of native\nlife and society. But without much special pleading or any affectation of\nphilosophic breadth of view, it may fairly be said that both men and women\nare intrinsically better than their talk, their creeds, or their social\narrangements would lead one to think. Notwithstanding the marriage abuses\njustly denounced by reformers, there are thousands of happy households,\nruled, as domestic interiors should be, by women, who in spite of\nsuperstition and a life whose every duty is a sort of ordered ritual, are\nvirtually as sensible, bright, and good as those of Europe, and very\ncertainly as tender and affectionate. Like most women everywhere, they\nrealise and express the pathos of their lot, but they would strongly resent\nbeing told by outsiders that they are downtrodden, unhappy, and degraded.\nThe men, to whom home and family are sacred matters withdrawn from all\npossibility of intrusion, would resent it still more. This much is certain,\nthat no \"movement\" or agitation will avail to stir them from their\ntraditional groove. Like all the rest of the world, they are subject to\nchange, but a change in their notions and practice where women are\nconcerned must be the slow work of education. Reforms are supposed to be\npromoted in the West by associations that career through society as a troop\nof wild asses sweeps over the desert, but the movement is not yet foaled\nthat shall stir the Hindu to a faster pace than he is minded to take.\n\nIn their silence Indian cattle offer an example which the cultivator does\nnot follow. Students in our colleges read Gray's Ode, wherein the lowing\nherd winds slowly o'er the lea, and say to the Professor, \"Sir, what is\nlowing?\" Neither ox nor cow lows in India. Their grunting note is seldom\nheard and does not carry. An English cow fills the narrow green field\nspaces with her fine voice as easily as a singer fills a concert room, but\nthe Indian herd, returning to the village, drifts across the wide gray\nplain silent as the dust-cloud that accompanies them. The herdsman is a\nvocalist. Not one European in a hundred can follow his song. It begins\nnowhere in particular and can be broken off short or continued indefinitely\n_ad lib._; it is always in a minor key, and has falsetto subtleties in it\nthat baffle our methods of notation. Written down, it seems to want form,\nbut, to be fair, so do most rustic songs.\n\nThe talk is easier, for the peasant talks a good deal in a loud heavy\nvoice. When his women folk walk with him, they follow respectfully an\nordained number of paces behind, and he flings his conversation over his\nshoulder. A common gibe of Anglo-Indians is that the talk is always about\ntwo things,--money or food, and there is some truth in this. Sometimes\nwomen are the topic, but then the speech is not so loud, shoulder inclines\nto shoulder, and heads roll with chuckling laughter. In the talk of very\npoor people there is a curious habit of endless repetitions. A company of\nold women will get through three miles in a discussion whether two or three\nannas were demanded by the dealer and whether one and a half anna was too\nmuch to pay. This, indeed, is rather too coherent and dramatic an example\nof a talk topic. I have often followed such a group, wondering when the\nover-chewed cud would be swallowed down in silence.\n\n[Illustration: THE OILMAN'S OX]\n\nIn Europe we speak of a monotonous life of labour as a mill-horse round,\nalthough the mill-horse has been dead for many years. Even the horse\nthreshing machine, which was so delightful to drive when I was a child,\nseems to be abolished in favour of one of the steam machines now \"huzzin'\nan' maazin' the blessed feealds wi' the Divil's oan team.\" But in India a\nphrase of this kind is quick and lively. The oilman's ox stands as the\naccepted type of a weary toiler. They say in pity of a man or woman\noverburdened with labour or domestic cares, \"An oilman's ox!\" An\nover-worked servant asks ironically, \"What business has an oilman's ox to\nstand still?\" The beast lives at home, and seldom goes abroad, but since he\nis condemned to a continuous pacing round the oil-mill they say: \"The\noilman's ox is always fifty miles from home.\" As an answer to casuistry and\nsuper-subtle argument, a popular phrase says, \"My ox hasn't read logic,\"\nand comes from a conversation held between a learned Hindu logician and an\noilman.\n\n[Illustration: THE PERSIAN WHEEL]\n\n\"Why,\" asks the philosopher, \"do you hang a bell on your bullock's neck?\"\n\n\"In order that I may hear that the mill is going.\"\n\n\"So, when the bell tinkles, the mill goes, eh?\"\n\n\"Yes, of course.\"\n\n\"Then, if your ox stood still and shook his head up and down, making the\nbell ring, the mill would still be going?\"\n\n\"Ah, sir,\" says the oilman, \"my ox does not read logic.\"\n\nThe water lift used in the Punjab, known among Europeans as the Persian\nwheel (apparently because it is the ancient Egyptian Sakieh, and not a\nPersian invention at all), is also driven by blindfolded oxen walking in a\ncircle, and I have heard the click of a tappet on the cogs spoken of as\ntaking the place of the bell as a tell-tale. It is true this catch is\ncalled the _K\u016btta_ or dog by farmers, but its real function is that of a\nstop to prevent the wheel laden with water pots from slipping back when the\ncattle stop. Moreover, its tick-tack is the lightest note in the travail of\nthe uneasy Persian wheel, which fills the air with a groaning, creaking,\nwhining drone of complaint for a quarter of a mile round. The cessation of\nthis sound arrests the ear as surely as the sudden stoppage of the engines\nof a steamship, so there is no need for the bark of the little wooden dog.\nThere are two or three centuries and thrice as many leagues between this\nprimitive machine and the last triumphs of mechanism in the Western world,\nbut you shall find a \"dog stop\" even in the latest American type-writer.\n\nI remember, when a child, sitting in a corner of a blacksmith's smithy in a\nYorkshire village watching horses being shod. One day, talking to his\nfriends, the smith laid a hand on the horn of his bellows and cried, \"Yance\nI shod a bull.\" He explained that the animal had to travel to fairs and\nshows and was liable to become footsore. Much I silently marvelled, after\nthe fashion of children, how the feat was done, for the bull I knew most\nintimately was a fearsome beast, safe to stroke in his stall, but awful in\ncroft or garth. Since then the shoeing of oxen has grown familiar, for\nIndian cart bullocks, working on hard roads, are usually shod. Two plates\ngo to each foot, and in some regions a turned-up tip protects the toe. The\nox is thrown to be shod and held down while the farrier works on the feet\ntied together in a bunch round a stick stuck in the ground. Plough cattle\nand cultivators' cattle generally are very seldom shod.\n\n[Illustration: SHOEING AN OX]\n\nBefore macadamised roads made Britain wheelable, the pack-horse had a place\nof honour now only indicated in a few inn-signs here and there. It will be\nlong, however, before India parts with her pack-oxen in spite of roads and\nrailways, for the continent is vast, and ancient customs are hard to kill.\nThe heavily-laden ox-cart still plods along roads parallel with the rail\nand underbids it for traffic, and the one-horse ekka or gig plies with\npassengers between towns connected by the iron road. Yet, though they may\nbe slow to give in, it is plain that on the great high-roads of commerce\nwhere formerly the Banj\u0101ri with their long trains of pack bullocks laden\nwith goods, unladen cattle for sale, big watch dogs for guard, and a host\nof women, were the organised carriers, the competition of the iron horse\nwill make itself felt. As a matter of fact many of them are already\nsettling down to agriculture and other pursuits. They are a folk apart,\nwith gypsy characteristics, and are credited with strange customs and\nbeliefs. For a long time there will be regions where their trade must be\ncarried on, and there are few more picturesque sights than is presented by\none of their trains either in motion, winding slowly through the broken\ncountry of Central India, or among the castle-crowned hills of Rajputana,\nor halted for the night in one of their neatly arranged camps. The men,\nreputed to be as honest as their oxen, are well set up and have a wild air\npeculiar to their race, while the sunburnt women, free in gait, and brave\nin brightly coloured clothing, wear an immense profusion of ornaments,\nbangles, and anklets in beads, brass, and glass. As much pains are spent on\nthe bedizenment of the oxen as on the adornment of their mistresses. The\nhorns are encased in hempen sheathings woven in zig-zag patterns of\nbrick-red and black and ornamented with shells and tassels. Over the\nbeast's forehead is a shaped frontlet of cotton cloth broidered with\npatterns in colour with pieces of mirror sewn in, and crowned by a _Kalgi_\nor aigrette of peacock feather tips. The pack saddle is of hempen stuff\nwoven in patterns of red, and has a high peak in front, something like\nthose seen in France and Spain, with a patch of inwoven pattern and a\npeacock feather tip. Large necklaces of blue and white beads like birds'\neggs, terminating in a pendent heart-shaped brass plate, go round the neck,\nand lower down is a broad hempen collar with a bell. Over all is sometimes\nspread a coverlet of stout cotton cloth embroidered in sampler work\nstitching of coloured thread with circular mirrors let in. The packs\nthemselves are brown, with wide bands of black or darker brown. All this,\nmerely written down, may seem garish, but artists, learned in tones and\nqualities of colour, might have prescribed the tints, and the effect when\nseen in the bright lights and wide areas of Indian landscape is simply\ndelightful.\n\n[Illustration: OOPLA (COW-DUNG FUEL)]\n\nIndia is so poorly off for fuel that the droppings of the cow have become\none of her most highly prized products, carefully collected and stored.\nSome observant tourists have recognised in the universal preparation of cow\npeat or _bois de vache_ the characteristic national industry. The\ncollection of the raw material, its mixture with fragments of straw and\nother combustible refuse, and, after kneading with water, the clapping of\neach finger-printed pat against a wall, rock, or other sun-visited surface\nin a bold diaper pattern is the first occupation of the poor girl, the last\nof the poor old woman. Authorities on Indian agriculture lie awake o'\nnights weeping over the loss to the soil caused by this industry;--not\nunknown in many other countries, but nowhere such a staple as in a land\nwhere there is no coal to speak of and wood is scarce and dear. Invaluable\nfor the tiny hearths of domestic life;--the wheelwright, smith,\nbrass-founder, potter, and other craftsmen to whom a strong heat is a\nnecessity, find dried cow-dung almost as good as charcoal. Before matches\ncame it held a vestal fire everywhere, and still serves, for it smoulders\nlike tinder, and, as the kindling for the dank compost of tobacco, treacle,\nand spices smoked in the _h\u016bqqa_ or national water-pipe, it is one of the\ncherished comforts of the country. There is an extensive trade in it both\nin city shops and village courtyards. Carts are piled high with it, women\nbear the light turves on their heads, and men trot along the roads with\nbundles nearly as high as themselves slung at each end of an elastic\nshoulder-borne yoke.\n\n[Illustration: GOING TO WORK (PUNJAB)]\n\nThe rustic pharmacy of most countries knows the value of the substance as a\npoultice, but in India the sanctity of the cow lends a semi-sacred sanction\nto its use, and its application has the prestige of a charm as well as the\nmerely mechanical action of a cataplasm. A respectable clerk or employ\u00e9\nwill come to work like a Zulu in war paint, with streaks daubed in\ngridirons over brow and cheeks, or large dabs on each temple, touched with\nturmeric or sandal paste by way of a high light. Thus fearsomely disguised,\nhe bears himself with the pensive pride of an invalid, firmly persuaded\nthat the dry scales of refuse relieve his headache. Cow-dung ashes are the\n_blanc de perle_, and the raw substance itself is the ordained cosmetic of\nHindu devotees.\n\nAs a cement, cow-dung takes a high place as the finishing coat of the floor\nand mud wall. This coating is renewed at frequent intervals, and\nperiodically applied to earthen floors. During the process of smearing the\nodour is somewhat strong, but this passes away in an incredibly short time,\nleaving an undeniable impression of coolness, freshness, and, strange as it\nmay seem, fragrance. Such a floor is soon spoiled by boots, but the\nOriental wears no shoes indoors, and is probably right in considering it\ncool, comfortable, and on the whole clean and wholesome. In some regions\nthe women give a finishing touch to the newly smoothed surface by shaking\nover it coloured powders from a cullender. Farm kitchens in northern\nEngland have similar fopperies in red sand on whitened stone.\n\nIn an unfenced country straying cattle are frequent causes of trouble and\npopular talk topics.\n\n\"A hand on the horn promise\" is a rustic Punjab expression for one that\nwill not be kept and is based on a little story. A cultivator lost a\nfavourite ox and sought it with unavailing tears. In his grief he vowed\nthat if he could find it he would give five rupees to the shrine of Sakhi\nSarwar (a great Punjab and frontier saint), nay, he would send seven to the\nGolden Temple at Amritsar, ay, even ten to his own village temple, and so\nforth; till his wife cried, \"O father of Gopal, but thou hast promised more\nthan the beast is worth!\" Quoth the husband, \"Hush, wife, only let me get a\nhand on his horn and I'll soon settle about the promises.\"\n\n[Illustration: A RUSTIC KRISHNA]\n\nCattle stealing is an ancient institution, and in the course of centuries\nof slack rule has become so thoroughly organised as to be an almost\nrespectable profession to which whole tribes of folk conceive themselves\nordained by birth. Year by year the law is gaining on the practice, though\nbad harvest years often show a notable slip back to the old state. Visitors\nfresh from Europe occasionally ask in reference to this and other crimes,\n\"What is the Government about, to permit such things?\" It is impossible to\ncondense the facts that would answer this kind of petulance within a\nparagraph, but anybody can perceive that though it may be easy for a\npolice to deal with occasional theft, it is hard to cope with\ncattle-stealing tribes who have life-long experience, a first-rate\norganisation of wandering habit, and wide stretches of country in which to\ndisappear.\n\nThere are several little jokes concealed in scientific nomenclature. The\nabsurd name Zebu now indelibly branded on the humped cow (_Bos Sacer_) of\nAfrica and Asia is one of these. That noble naturalist M. Buffon once met\nsome showmen going to a fair with a Brahminy bull and was told that its\nname, when it was at home, was \"Zebu.\" There is a fine foreign touch in\nthis word, as in that other showman's invention, the \"Guyascutis,\" so the\ngreat man wrote it down, and scientific Europe, following his lead, has\ninscribed this fragment of a French showman's _boniment_ so deeply on its\naugust records that it cannot now be effaced. No such word is known in\nIndia, where \"the cow\" suffices for all needs. \"Brahminy cow\" appears to be\nused by untravelled English folk, and, as distinguishing the true cow from\nthe low-caste buffalo, is the best name possible; if India is to be\nconsidered the chief home of humped cattle.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nOF BUFFALOES AND PIGS\n\n    \"Dark children of the mere and marsh,\n      Wallow and waste and lea;\n    Outcast they wait at the village gate\n      With folk of low degree.\n\n    \"Their pasture is in no man's land,\n      Their food the cattle's scorn;\n    Their rest is mire and their desire\n      The thicket and the thorn.\n\n    \"But woe to those who break their sleep\n      And woe to those who dare\n    To rouse the herd-bull from his keep,\n      The wild boar from his lair.\"\n\n                                   R. K.\n\n\nMany Europeans speak of the Indian buffalo, which is the familiar buffalo\nof Egypt and Italy, as the \"water buffalo,\" from its predilection for\nwallowing in swamps. \"Yoke a buffalo and a bullock together and the buffalo\nwill head towards the pool, the ox to the upland,\" says a proverb, but none\nthe less this unequal yoke is often seen. Hindus of the old rock say a\nbuffalo is unlucky to keep, the black antithesis of the benignant cow,--a\ndemon to an angel. On going out in the morning it is an ill omen if the eye\nrests on a buffalo, while the sight of a cow is good. The passion of the\nHindu for bright colours, and his rooted hatred of black and dingy tones,\nare the groundwork of this aversion. Its uncouth shape as compared with the\nsmooth outlines of the cow also counts in the buffalo's exclusion from\nbovine kinship. The vertebr\u00e6 stand up on its crest like park palings, and\nthe skeleton suggests paleontology as much as actual natural history,\nthough the creature is an unmistakable cow. Not that the Hindu ever thought\nof generic relationships, for the rhinoceros, which is still more remote in\nkind, counts as a superior cow, and a vessel used in Shiv worship,\nrepresenting the female energy, is reckoned of precious sanctity when made\nof rhinoceros horn. The Nilghai too, which is an antelope, is accounted a\ncow and equally honoured.\n\nBut though the Hindu may affect an academic scorn of the buffalo, he must\nconfess that it is intrinsically a good beast, as gentle as the cow, more\ncourageous and more affectionate, for it bears a better brain. Buffalo milk\ntoo is a most valuable food, rich and abundant. Most of the ghi eaten in\nthe great cities is prepared from buffalo butter, and is now made on a\nlarge scale in remote districts and distributed by the railways. \"The\nbuffalo to the strong man's house, the horse to the Sultan's,\" is a saying\nindicating the estimate of the value of the milk of this animal. As a\ndraught animal the buffalo has the fine qualities of willingness and great\nstrength, suited for the strenuous toil of the quarry and the timber-yard,\nbut he bears the sun badly, and to thrive properly should have free access\nto a pool or mud swamp. \"The tradesman to the city, the buffalo to the\nmarsh,\" says the proverb. The roll of a horse or ass in sand or the pure\nluxury a tired man enjoys in a warm bath seem poor delights compared with\nthe ineffable satisfaction of a herd of buffaloes in a water wallow. They\nroll and wriggle till the soft black mud encradles them and they are\ncoated all over with a plaster that defies the mosquito, and for hours they\nwill lie with only eyes and nostril twinkling above the surface in blissful\ncontent defying the heat of the sun. English farmers say, \"Happy as pigs in\nmuck;\"--the beatitude of the buffalo in warm mud beats that homely figure\nby more than the buffalo beats the pig in size.\n\n[Illustration: BUFFALOES]\n\nIt is truly said that herds of buffaloes can defend themselves from the\ntiger, and they will also defend their herdsman, for they are capable of\nstrong attachments, and have sense enough to combine and form square to\nrepel attack. In remote regions, where a European is seldom seen, they are\noccasionally inclined to resent his presence. There is something\nignominious in a party of stalwart British sportsmen being treed by a herd\nof angry buffaloes, and obliged to wait for rescue at the hands of a\nherdsman's child, but this has happened. Buffalo horns offer an example of\nthe wondrous variety in unity of which nature is capable. One blade of\nvariegated ribbon grass, to the incurious eye, looks like another, but if\nyou cut and match a thousand sections you will find no two with identical\nstripes; so a herd of buffaloes has the same head at the first glance, but\nthe horns offer an immense variety of size and curve. They are always\nheavy, so they say with pathos and truth of the care of a large family,\n\"The buffalo's horns may be a heavy burden, but she carries them herself.\"\n\nOne of many unpleasing features in the practice of keeping milch buffaloes\nin great cities is the usage of feeding them on stable refuse. The English\nhousewife in India learns this with disgust, and hastens to buy and keep\nher own cows. The Oriental does not object to the custom, nor do learned\nveterinary authorities seem inclined to denounce the practice very\nseverely, and it is undeniable that after the horse has done with his food,\nthe buffalo thrives on the residuum. The filthy state of all native cow\nbyres is one of many causes of the low state of health of the densely\nover-crowded cities. Through alleys reeking with filth, and an air heavy\nwith the stench of decomposition, native gentlemen of good position are\ncontent to pick their way, and over cow byres of unimaginable impurity you\nmay hear young students debating politics and local self-government with\nthat love of wordy abstractions and indifference to practical\nconsiderations which have always been marks of the Hindu.\n\n[Illustration: MAHESWAR FIGHTING KALI]\n\nNot only does the Hindu affect to despise buffaloes, but he sacrifices them\nin great numbers to Kali, especially at the Dasehrah festival. As in the\ncase of goats, only male animals are sacrificed. The head should be smitten\noff at a blow, a feat in which those who officiate at Hindu sacrifices take\ngreat pride. The Moslem cuts the throat with the invariable invocation of\nGod's name. A buffalo demon, sometimes drawn as a bull-headed man and\nsometimes like the Greek man-bull, or the Bucentaur, from whom Mysore takes\nits name, once fought with the awful Goddess, and the sacrifice of\nbuffaloes is supposed by some to be a punishment for this presumption. It\nis more likely that it is a survival of some barbaric pre-Aryan rite:\nindeed Kali herself may be suspected of a similar low-born origin. The\nTodas, an aboriginal tribe of the Neilgherry hills, have been reported to\ncudgel their buffalo to death, and in some villages in Western India the\nwhole population turns out to the festivity of beating a poor beast till it\ndies; a long and hideously cruel business, and then they tear it to pieces\nin a sort of Maenad rage. At the very curious and interesting ceremony of\nthe worship of the sword, as observed by the ancient and illustrious House\nof Oodeypore, the first of the Rajput Lords, buffaloes are sacrificed,\ntheir heads being cut off at one blow. Colonel Tod, in his invaluable\n_Annals and Antiquities of Rajasth\u0101n_, describes the ancient practice when\nthe Maha Rana himself pierced the buffalo with an arrow shot from his\ntravelling throne or litter, borne on men's shoulders. Kavi Raja Shyamal\nDass, of the State Council of Oodeypore, informs me that this observance\nwas abolished in 1830, and the Maha Rana now only gives the word for the\ndecapitation of the animal. On account of its sanctity the Brahminy cow is\nnever ridden, and the ox but very seldom serves as a steed. The buffalo, on\nthe other hand, is constantly mounted, although its craggy contours do not\nat first sight seem to offer a comfortable seat. The sacred animal is very\nrarely used for draught, and only when poverty can be pleaded as an excuse\nfor her degradation, but a barren buffalo cow is set to the plough without\nscruple. It does not always pay to rear male buffaloes, but it is\nconsidered cruel to kill them, so they are allowed to die slowly of\nstarvation. An Englishman would be inclined to say that the Biloch were\nmore merciful, for, not caring to rear colts, they cut their throats soon\nafter birth.\n\nA sacrificial use of this animal, against which there is but little room\nfor complaint, is at a time of unusual sickness. A male buffalo is given or\nbought, and all the village assists at a ceremony of propitiation. A red\ncaste mark is solemnly put on the beast's brow, and it is adorned with\nflowers and led round the town by the elders, while Brahmans and the poor\nare fed. When turned loose if it goes straight away it is a good omen, for\nthe sickness goes with it, and by dint of loud cries and sticks and stones\nthe animal is made to go. When it is out of sight, the village is happy and\nprobably some good Mussulman meets the beast, takes off its garlands, and\nappropriates it to his own use. Nothing is easier than to laugh at so\nfoolish a performance. But, given the simplicity of faith, there is sound\nsense in a proceeding which restores confidence and hope to people\ndemoralised by the presence of death, and therefore apt to contract\nsickness. Who cares may debate whether the prayer of faith can save the\nsick: it is certain that it soothes the troubled mind.\n\nThe Indian village pig is counted tame by a strained courtesy, for he is in\nnothing like the domestic animal we know in the West. \"Without are dogs,\"\nsays the Scripture, speaking of that extra-mural filthiness, wherein the\nunclean levitical purity of the East mainly asserts itself. \"Without\" also\nare pigs, the outcast property of out-castes, enjoying with the\ncharacteristic insouciance of their race a useful and filthy freedom;\nfoul-feeding, slate-tinted, slab-sided, gaunt, and hideous beasts.\n\nMoses, who is always spoken of by Muhammadans as the converser with God\n(Kalim ulla), never saw a Berkshire or a Yorkshire hog, and his prohibition\nof pigs' flesh as a food staple was a wise sanitary measure as well as a\nreligious ordinance. In the course of time the pig has become in the\nestimation of Semitic peoples a boundary pillar of the faith, a black\nbeacon of uncleanness, enhancing the snow-white purity of the chosen\npeople. Never was so lowly and unoffending a Devil, but he is as necessary\nto the consciences of thousands of ignorant and devout Moslems as our\nChristian devil is to us. His potentialities of intelligence, humour,\nusefulness, and surpassing edibility count for nothing in comparison with\nhis religious functions. When strife arises between Hindu and Muhammadan,\nthe pig, dead or alive, goes in the fore-front of the fray, for he is\neither driven into the precincts of the mosque or portions of his flesh are\nthrown over its walls or into its courtyard well. And his innocent name,\nS\u016bar, is universally considered the vilest word in all the copious abuse\nvocabulary of the country. We also use the word pig in this sense, but in a\nmerely academic fashion, for we cherish the animal in life and praise it in\ndeath.\n\nIt is doubtful whether the natives of India have an adequate conception of\nthe influence exerted by Hinduism and Muhammadanism on each other, and very\ncertain that many Anglo-Indians who see the creeds in conflict fail to\nnotice their frequent fusion. When this curious subject is worked out it\nwill probably be seen that Hindus have learned scorn of the pig from their\nMuhammadan neighbours. Levitical ordinances have always a contagious\neffect, appealing to the passion for respectability which is a leading note\nin Hindu character. A high-caste Hindu of to-day might rate the pig as a\nnon-Aryan animal and suggest that the boar avatar or incarnation of Vishnu\nas a pig was a concession of early Brahmanism to indigenous taste.\nSomething like this I have heard, but it seems too fine-drawn a conclusion.\nThe chase of the wild boar and a taste for his flesh have always been\nenjoyed by Rajput nobles and Sikh chiefs. At all events the tame pig is now\nalmost as unclean to the Hindu as to the Muhammadan, although there is\nlittle that can be quoted against him from sacred lore. Like the donkey,\nhis low caste makes him suitable for association with disease godlings and\ndemons. A pious Hindu who has recovered from smallpox buys a pig and lets\nit loose to Sitala or he will be again attacked. Mr. Crooke in his _Rural\nand Agricultural Glossary_ mentions a curious licensed robbery of pigs. The\npeople of one village turn out and drive off the pigs of another village by\nforce. The owners resist as well as they can, but never prosecute the\noffenders. This practice is noted as peculiar to the Azamgarh district, but\nit seems to indicate a denial of even the right of being owned to the\nanimal, which may once have been general.\n\nAs low castes rise, it is just possible that the pigs they cherish may rise\nwith them. Some Europeans have tried to breed and feed pigs in the Western\nfashion and not without success. Others have imported stock from Europe,\nbut not all the dollars in Chicago will avail to prove the industry\nrespectable in native eyes for many a year to come.\n\nBut there is nothing to be ashamed of in the character and conduct of wild\npigs. They cut for themselves shelters from the sugar-cane or the tall\nmillet stocks, where they breed and sleep, take the best of the crops and\ndefy mankind. The wild boar has been known to face and defeat the tiger,\nand though his first impulse is to fly before British sportsmen, he often\nmakes a gallant stand before the unequal odds of horses, razor-sharp\nspears, and legions of yelling rustics brought against him. No swordsman\ncan cut right and left so swiftly and surely as the wild boar with his\ntusks when fighting for life. He is sometimes shot by Rajput chiefs, by\nwhom he is as strictly preserved as the fox in England. This protection\nbreeds boldness. My son tells me that he was once shown a lane in a suburb\nof a Rajput town along which a certain well-known wild boar was accustomed\nto pass at dawn. The animal was next day shot by the ruler of the State and\na side of bacon was despatched by special messenger on a camel as a gift to\na brother prince some hundred miles away. The Maharaja took just as much\ninterest in pointing out the course of his bullet as an English sportsman\nwho has brought down a stag, and expressed as cordial an appreciation of\nthe quality of the flesh as if it were venison. And yet we are constantly\ntold that all Hindus are strictly vegetarian!\n\nThe story of Buddhism is nowadays so completely forgotten that it is\npossible to shock a Brahman to the bone by telling him how the Lord Buddha\nattained Nirvana through the lowly gate of indigestion brought on by eating\ntoo heartily of the roast pork prepared for him by a faithful disciple.\nThis is duly recorded by the best authorities, nor is it to any fair mind\nderogatory. The Master was old and very weary, and the Smith, his host,\nentertaining him in his garden, naturally pressed him to eat. Here is a\npathetic note of nature, of human weakness, too often missing from Eastern\nstories of the half-Divine.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nOF HORSES AND MULES\n\n     \"_Johnson.--'Pity is not natural to man. Children are always\n     cruel. Savages are always cruel. Pity is acquired and\n     improved by the cultivation of reason. We may have uneasy\n     sensations from seeing a creature in distress, without pity;\n     for we have not pity unless we wish to relieve them. When I\n     am on my way to dine with a friend, and finding it late have\n     bid the coachman make haste, if I happen to attend when he\n     whips his horses, I may feel unpleasantly that the animals\n     are put to pain, but I do not wish him to desist. No, Sir, I\n     wish him to drive on.'_\"--Boswell's _Life of Johnson_.\n\n[Illustration: WAITING FOR THE WAZIR]\n\n\nIndia has been described by a European as the Paradise of horses, and from\nhis point of view the phrase is not unfitting. The natural affinity between\nhorses and Englishmen becomes a closer bond by residence in India, where\neverybody rides--or ought to ride--where horses and horse-keep are cheap,\nand where large castes of stable servants, contented with a low wage, are\ncapable under careful superintendence of keeping their animals in a state\nof luxurious comfort. The horses, however, which serve native masters are\nborn to Purgatory rather than to Paradise. Those in the hands of the upper\nclasses suffer from antiquated and barbarous systems of treatment, and are\noften killed by mistaken kindness or crippled by bad training, while those\nof low degree are liable to cruel ill-usage, over-work, neglect, and\nunrelieved bondage.\n\nI have not always thought it worthwhile in previous notes to dwell on the\nfrequent appearance of notions on animals once current in Europe. But in\nthe matter of the horse, there is no escape from this suggestive subject.\nThe Oriental conception of a horse may be gathered from pictures and\ncurrent sayings as well as from an inspection of princely stables. In many\nrespects it recalls that of our forefathers before the introduction of Arab\nblood into Europe and the systematic cultivation of speed. No Eastern horse\nhas anything like the substance of the \"grete horse,\" \"the gambaldyne\nhorse,\" or \"the grete doble trottynge hors called a curtal\" of old\nEngland,--but that kind of animal is plainly the ideal in the Oriental\nmind. Its artificial paces, air-fighting attitudes, and slow rate of speed\nare still the model of the high-class Indian trainer when left to himself.\nThis ideal is somewhat contrary to nature, for the climate is not\nfavourable to the pig-like roundness of form shown in all modern Indian\npictures as in European representations of a bygone time. For the animals\nthat take their chance with the poor are always light in form and often of\nspectral slenderness. But by rigorous confinement and careful stuffing\nwith rich food even this condition is approached. Many horses belonging to\npersons of rank are fattened like fowls in France, by the grooms thrusting\nballs of food mixed with ghi, boiled goats' brains, and other rich messes\ndown their throats. And, as might be expected, very many die of diseases of\nthe digestion and liver under the process. The difference between East and\nWest, between old and new, between feudal and free conditions, is shown in\nfew things more clearly than in a comparison of the horse of the Indian\nRaja with the scientifically treated animal of Europe and America. The\nlatter is carefully fed during the all-important period of its growth, so\nthat its strength and substance are fully developed, while it is made to\ntake regular exercise. Year by year, too, a humane appreciation of its\nnatural timidity leads to a more considerate and merciful training, which\nis accomplished without cruel constraint, harsh confinement, violence, or\nnervous shock.\n\nThe horse of the Indian noble, on the other hand, is imperfectly nourished\nin its early youth. Not always in the West will an ordinary farmer\nunderstand the requirements of a young horse after weaning, but in India it\nseems impossible to persuade people that money spent on a growing beast is\nmoney invested. All they see is a present loss. Then it is tied up during\nthe greater part of its life, not merely secured by the head but tethered\nby heel-ropes. No innovation has been more obstinately fought against by\nnative servants of English masters than the loose box, for Orientals have a\npassion for tying things up. A group of young horses in a pasture, free to\nexult in their strength, is a sight not seen in India, with a few\nexceptions to be presently noted. If you watch such a group and note their\nGod-given delight in motion and freedom, the birthright and wild desire of\nall young things, you must admit that this is a custom of cruelty. But the\npedantry of horse-folk, everywhere inclined to stupidity, is inflexible in\nIndia.\n\nSome of the foregoing may appear incredible to Western readers. I quote\nfrom the _India in 1887_ of Mr. R. Wallace, Professor of Agriculture and\nRural Economy in the University of Edinburgh,--a witness who writes from\nfirst-hand observation, and who, throughout his book, is inclined to the\nnot unreasonable contention that a native custom is _prim\u00e2 facie_ likely to\nbe right:--\n\n     \"The pampering and over-feeding of favourite animals in the\n     stables of wealthy native princes cannot be too strongly\n     condemned and reprobated, as cruel to the beasts themselves\n     and injurious to the best interests of the country. I spent\n     some hours in one stable where over one hundred of the\n     finest horses--Arabs, Barbs, Marwars, and Kathiawars--that\n     India could produce were tied up and actually fed as fat as\n     pigs. Horses that had cost Rs.18,000 and Rs.20,000 were kept\n     in close boxes with most imperfect ventilation, and were\n     taken out only for show at rare intervals, and not at all\n     for regular exercise. In addition to ordinary food, they got\n     mixed with it 2 lbs. of sugar and from 1 to 2 lbs. of ghi\n     daily. The first result of this feeding would be a rapidly\n     thriving condition, accompanied with a sleek and glossy coat\n     and an increase of fat; but the ultimate and most natural\n     consequence proved to be the gradual breaking down of the\n     system in each case at its weakest point through\n     over-pressure. This accounted for the variety of diseases\n     that appeared and developed and were running their course at\n     the time referred to--_e.g._ broken wind, founder\n     (_laminitis_), weed (_lymphangitis_), skin eruptions or\n     diseases, and fatty degenerations of the liver. All these, I\n     noticed, were present, and no doubt there were others\n     besides.\n\n     \"I was informed that a considerable number died annually of\n     an unknown disease, and I was able to satisfy myself by\n     examining what existed of it at the moment, and from the\n     accounts of the two native veterinary attendants, that this\n     unknown and fatal malady was fatty degeneration of the\n     liver, which seemed to carry off most of those horses that\n     escaped the other more rapid and better-known forms of\n     disease.\n\n     \"The injury to the community lies in this, that the best\n     horses of the best breeds in the country are picked up--even\n     those bred by government sires--and brought to these\n     stables; and if an animal finds favour in the eyes of the\n     Prince or Sahib, it is supplied with the food of the\n     favourites already described, and whether it is a male or\n     female it soon becomes barren; consequently, the best horses\n     are withdrawn from breeding, and the artificial selection of\n     man is made to act in the wrong direction--the race being\n     reproduced from the poorer specimens.\n\n     \"I saw a horse suffering from a disease said to be produced\n     by excess of moisture. It took the form of large blotches or\n     swollen raw sores, which may occur on any part of the body,\n     but most abundantly about the legs.... There is an\n     extraordinary confusion in the minds of natives of the lower\n     orders, such as grooms, in their ideas of kindness and\n     cruelty to the lower animals. While some were being\n     literally killed by over-feeding and care, I found the one\n     suffering from this loathsome disease tied out in the open,\n     and exposed without shelter to the sun or rain, as the case\n     might be, and to the constant and irritating action of flies\n     which swarmed about and lived on the skinless parts.\n     Although the disease was well developed, no effort had been\n     made to treat it in any way. The animal was suffering\n     severely, but my drawing attention to the fact was received\n     with the greatest astonishment and indifference.\"\n\nWith reference to the last case quoted by Mr. Wallace, a native groom would\nsay that _bars\u00e1ti_, which seems to be the disease indicated, is incurable\nand contagious. So the animal must be kept apart from the rest, but it may\nnot be killed--and--\"he is only a poor man and what can be done?\" But in\nreality, it has never occurred to him to think that creatures can suffer.\n\nThe distinctively native methods of training, which are corruptions of the\nman\u00e8ge formerly popular in Europe, involve unnecessary cruelty. It is true\nthat even in England, which is, relatively speaking, the true horse\nparadise, carriage horses are still made to learn certain artificial\ntricks, relics of unwise old fashions, indefensible because interferences\nwith nature. To teach the outstretched, flying-buttress attitude which is\nconsidered good form, the animal is set to stand and the inside of the fore\nlegs is tapped with a whip till he covers the proper extent of ground. The\nFrench take more pains to exaggerate this position than the English, but\nduring the season in the Park you may often see an English coachman, on\npulling up, fidget with reins and whip till his animals are outstretched\nlike wooden rocking-horses. This is considered quite beautiful, but it is\nthe worst possible attitude for a horse to move forward from, since it may\ncause strain in back or loins. But it is only done while the animal is at\nwork. In India the poor brute is tied tightly in this posture and left for\nmany hours together without possibility of relief.\n\n[Illustration: IN TRAINING]\n\nWhen a carriage horse carries his head too low for good form, an English\nhead-groom fits him with a dumb-jockey, on which is an iron standard with a\nmovable hook. To this hook a bridle is fastened at the desired height and\nleft for half an hour at a time,--seldom for longer and not often more than\ntwice a day, usually only once, because the groom knows that nothing is so\nbad for a horse's temper as this kind of confinement. Sometimes the bridle\nis fitted with india-rubber pieces, which stretch and allow a little play,\nbut this contrivance seems likely to teach boring. Some grooms tie a wisp\nof hay round the bit, with intent to keep the mouth occupied, so that the\nbeast does not sulkily hang in his bit all the time and spoil his mouth. At\nits best, however, there is not much to be said in favour of the plan, for\nif a horse's head is not meant by nature to be carried handsomely, no\namount of training will teach him. But the lesson lasts for a very brief\nperiod of time, nor is it physically more severe than that undergone by\nrecruits in a drill-yard. Moreover, the head is tied up and not down.\nAnother kind of dumb-jockey is used in England as the horse's first lesson\nin bit and bridle. But its use is intermittent, and when compared with the\nIndian practice, it allows comparatively free play to the head. The\nbearing-rein still holds its own and is warmly supported against common\nsense by the pedants of the English stable, but at its worst it is a tender\nmercy when compared with the Indian practice of tying the poor brute's head\ntightly back and down for weeks at a time until a monstrous exaggeration of\nthe natural curve of the neck is produced. A diagram shows how this is\ndone. A poor brute thus treated for the greater part of his life has\nnaturally a heavy grudge against all mankind. So good temper is the last\nthing to expect from the horse of an Indian person of quality. The physical\neffects of the practice are no less deplorable. The neck of the horse, a\nwonderful piece of construction, plays a most important part in all his\nmovements. It is one of the first parts to show fatigue, seeing that like\na pendulum it balances every movement. The gait of an animal with a\ncrippled neck becomes mincing and constrained. But it is precisely this\nrickety, rocking, all-of-a-piece action that most pleases the Oriental,\nsince it is supposed to resemble the dainty stepping and wanton prancing in\nwhich young horses indulge at times. A sort of high-stepping caper is\ntaught; the _ch\u0101b\u016bk_ _sow\u0101r_ (whip-rider) or breaker, holding, in addition\nto the bridle, cords tied to the fore fetlocks, with which he gives a jerk,\ncrying Ho! This brings the foot up with a flourish and, one would think,\nshould occasionally bring the horse on his nose.\n\nSome people say high-stepping is taught to horses in England by making them\ntread on hot iron plates, or among logs of timber, or in soft fallows, or\nin a very deep layer of straw. But if I wanted to believe in things of this\nkind, I should prefer the theory of a rustic at a funeral, watching a pair\nof Flemish blacks throwing their fore-legs about. \"I _hev_ heard tell as\nthey teaches 'osses this by practysin' 'em 'over wheel-barrows.'\" Now, a\nmere man tumbling over a wheel-barrow is in for a most complex catastrophe,\nbut the idea of horses waltzing round a yard full of wheel-barrows is\npurely fascinating. The truth is that though \"dodges\" may be practised at\ntimes, the really skilful trainer would be almost as much puzzled to\ndescribe his practice as a skilful painter to describe the way he painted\nhis picture.\n\n    \"It's incommunicable, like the cast\n    That drops the tackle with the gut adry,\n    Too much, too little,--there's your salmon lost.\"\n\nElaborately-ordered curvetings, side movements like those of Western\nriding-schools, and progress by slow springs or bounds, are also\npractised. From old pictures it is evident that the last was an admired\naction of the European man\u00e8ge. A good American or English circus trainer;\nwho, as their phrase runs, can make a horse canter round a cabbage leaf;\nteaches it in less time and by simpler methods than in the old days, and\nwithout the infliction of pain and bondage. The Central Indian idea is that\nthe rider should appear to sit at ease, languidly controlling the movements\nof a restive steed. In reality every action is as measured as the swing of\na wooden rocking-horse, while a touch of the bit suffices to check any\ntendency to genuine spirit.\n\nThe \"thorn bits\" here engraved are ordinary specimens of those in use; the\ncut requires careful examination before their murderous character can be\nmade out. Some say the Indian bit is severe because the average horseman,\nbeing of slight build, is physically incapable of holding a horse with a\nfair one. There may be something in this, but the weakness is more moral\nthan physical; nerve is more wanting than muscle, and reason most of all.\nThe whole process of bringing up and handling is faulty, depending on harsh\nconstraint and developing bad form, bad temper, and bad manners. There are\nof course many fine horsemen in the country, but they have usually been\ntaught by Englishmen, for by means of the turf, the army, and the\nequestrian civilian, English horse notions have been widely spread. It is\nno libel to say that the average native horseman is timid, and no timid\nrider can afford to be merciful. A Bengali saying counselling caution\nexpresses this and gives a picture in a line to those who are familiar with\nthe least equestrian race in the world. \"Having taken a firm hold on all\nsides, then mount the horse.\" Perhaps it is unfair to see in this\nsagacious counsel the courage of a Bengali rider desperately screwed up to\nthe sticking place, the convulsive grip, the struggling climb, and the\napprehensive face as if the placid pony were some wild hippogriff.\n\n[Illustration: INDIAN \"THORN BITS\"]\n\nPossibly, also, it is unkind to see in the adoption of ambling or pacing\nanother index to the unequestrian character of India. For in America, where\nthey want no teaching about horses, ambling is a regularly ordained gait.\nIt is taught in India, as formerly in Europe, by tying together the fore\nand hind legs on each side, but this is not always necessary, for the pace\ncomes naturally to many animals. There are who ride and there are who sit\non a horse and are carried. In a hot climate, where for months the aim of\nlife is to exist with as little motion as possible, since heat is a mode of\nmotion, and you are already many degrees hotter than you like, it is\nnatural that equestrian India should prefer to sit on a horse. Ambling is\nthe easiest way of doing this. You shall see at a cold weather f\u00eate, or\npublic function, a burly native Inspector of police bumping vigorously in\nhis saddle, charging round like a General's galloper on a field day, so\nthat the British tourist admiringly remarks, \"Smart officer, that!\" But see\nthat same Inspector in the hot weather, faring to a village away from his\nDistrict Superintendent's observation. His legs dangle carelessly, his\nbody, languidly thrown back, has just as much movement as a jelly on a\nfootman's tray, while a constable on each side supports him as they run\nalongside his lazily ambling charger. When he halts, they reverently lift\nhim down, and placing him on a bed under a village tree or in a verandah,\nundress and shampoo him tenderly while another prepares his h\u016bqqa, and the\nvillage Elders stand before him with joined hands to learn his Lordship's\ncommands about dinner. The sun is in fact master of the situation, and his\ndictates are obeyed in riding as in other matters.\n\nWhen a native chief goes out, he is accompanied by a _sow\u0101ri_, literally a\n\"riding\" of ministers, servants, guards, and attendants of all sorts.\nFormerly all rode, but with good roads good carriages have been introduced,\nand usually in these days only the horsemen of the guard ride. But on state\noccasions, led horses, richly caparisoned, always form part of the show,\nand there are many animals in princely stables kept solely for processional\npurposes. The animals most liked are the stallions of Marwar or Kathiawar.\nWhite horses with pink points, piebalds, and leopard spotted beasts are\nmuch admired, especially when they have pink Roman noses and light-coloured\neyes with an uncanny expression. Their crippled, highly arched necks, curby\nhocks, rocking gait, and paralytic prancing often proclaim them as triumphs\nof training.\n\n[Illustration: A PROCESSIONAL HORSE]\n\nThe passion for bright colour is strikingly evident in these parades, where\nsilk and gold are lavishly spread, and the manes and tails and sometimes\nthe bodies of the animals are dyed magenta, scarlet, or orange. Gold or\nsilver bangles are clasped round the fetlocks or above the knee, where\nthey are hung with silk cloths or streamers. No matter how long the\n_tam\u00e1sha_ may last, the animal's head is always pulled tightly back and\ndown with bridle and silken martingale, and one longs with such an\nexceeding great longing to cut them and set the head free that it is hard\nto be respectful to the bravery of the show. You feel that as a relic of\nthe externals of the brave days of old (which must have been mainly bad old\ndays) it deserves some respect. Yet no writer who has seen the display from\nnear, and writes honestly, can refrain from noting its seamy side. The late\nMr. Aberigh Mackay (Ali Baba of _Vanity Fair_), one of the brightest and\nmost original, as well as one of the most generous spirits who ever handled\nIndian subjects, has drawn a picture in his _Twenty-one Days in India_, of\na Raja and his Sow\u0101ri which could not be bettered by a hair's breadth.\n\n[Illustration: A RAJA'S CHARGER (MARWAR BREED)]\n\n     \"In the cool of the evening our king emerges from his\n     palace, and, riding on a prodigiously fat white horse with\n     pink points, proceeds to the place of carousal. A long train\n     of horsemen follow him, and footmen run before with guns in\n     red flannel covers and silver maces, shouting 'Raja Maharaja\n     Salaamat,' etc. The horsemen immediately around him are\n     mounted on well-fed and richly caparisoned steeds, with all\n     the bravery of cloth of gold, yaktails, silver chains, and\n     strings of shells; behind are troopers in a burlesque of\n     English uniform; and altogether in the rear is a mob of\n     caitiffs on skeleton chargers, masquerading in every degree\n     of shabbiness and rags, down to nakedness and a sword. The\n     cavalcade passes through the city. The inhabitants pour out\n     of every door and bend to the ground. Red cloths and white\n     veils flutter at the casements overhead. You would hardly\n     think that the spectacle was one daily enjoyed by the city.\n     There is all the hurrying and eagerness of novelty and\n     curiosity. Here and there a little shy crowd of women gather\n     at a door and salute the Chief with a loud, shrill verse of\n     discordant song. It is some national song of the Chief's\n     ancestors and of the old heroic days. The place of carousal\n     is a bare spot near a large and ancient well out of which\n     grows a vast pipal tree. Hard by is a little temple\n     surmounted by a red flag on a drooping bamboo. It is here\n     that the _Gangor_ and _Dasehra_ Solemnities are celebrated.\n     Arrived on the ground, the Raja slowly circles his horse;\n     then, jerking the thorn-bit, causes him to advance plunging\n     and rearing, but dropping first on the near foot and then on\n     the off foot with admirable precision; and finally, making\n     the white monster, now in a lather of sweat, rise up and\n     walk a few steps on his hind legs, the Raja's performance\n     concludes amid many shouts of wonder and delight from the\n     smooth-tongued courtiers. The thakores (barons) and sardars\n     (squires) now exhibit their skill in the _man\u00e8ge_ until the\n     shades of night fall, when torches are brought, amid much\n     salaaming, and the cavalcade defiles through the city, back\n     to the palace.\"\n\nIs it any wonder that Sir John Malcolm, who had seen so much of this kind\nof life and could describe it with humour and spirit, was a congenial\ncompanion to the good Sir Walter? For it belongs to another world, and\nanother time. Yet, when one knows all about the poor horse and the cruel\nbit it seems but a dull parody of ancient chivalry.\n\nThe ideas current on the qualities, form, and vices of the animal are as\nantiquated as its treatment. Many are tied up in aphoristic bundles for\nbetter preservation. So many parts of the horse should be round, so many\nsquare, so many short, and so many long, and everybody speaks of the five\nvices and of the eight lucky white points of Mangal--Mars. There is an\nelaborate science of stray hairs with an obstinate twist, of the colour of\nthe markings and the planting of the hair in the skin. The last is a\ncurious, and nowadays but little known subject in England. If you paint a\nwell-groomed, well-conditioned horse in a strong light, you find that the\nshimmer and reflections of his coat take forms like those in moire antique\nsilk or the \"figure\" in polished satin-wood and tell in your picture more\nthan the actual form. It is conceivable, indeed, that a sculptor, studying\nshape only, might find it convenient to dredge his model over with gray\npowder to kill these reflections. We know that the rich and pictorial\neffects are partly due to a relatively trivial cause,--the direction in\nwhich the hairs are set in the skin, which varies slightly in different\nindividuals. But in Indian horse lore the set of these featherings (they\nare analogous to the radiating arrangements of birds' feathers), ending\nsometimes in circles or whorls, are all mapped out like currents on a\nmariner's chart, and each is named and interpreted for luck, temper,\nconstitution, or quality; but mainly for luck. The \"_Zinnat ul Khail_\" or\n\"Beauties of the horse\" is an elaborately illustrated text-book of this\nabsurd science. Absurd enough, but those who have rummaged in old books\nwill feel that in the American phrase, they \"have been here before.\" Three\nhundred years ago, precisely similar notions were current in Europe and\nlearnedly discoursed upon. Mr. Alfred E. T. Watson, in the _Riding and\nPolo_ volume of the \"Badminton Library\" quotes from an Elizabethan writer,\nMaister Thomas Blundevill: \"The horse that hath an ostrich feather either\non his forehead, or both sides of his maine, or on the one side, or els\nbehind on his buttocks, or in any place where he himself cannot see it, can\nnever be an euill horse.\"\n\nWith reference to colour, we probably have preserved more preferences than\nwe care to admit, though we say \"a good horse is never of a bad colour.\"\nSuch a saying is wildly irreverent from the Oriental point of view, whence\ncolour and colour markings are the first things taken into account. Relics\nof the old ideas, however, still linger among us in such sayings as the\ndoggerel about white feet,--\n\n    \"One, you may buy him;\n    Two, you may try him;\n    Three, you should doubt him;\n    Four, do without him,\"--\n\nbut there are many similar rules in the East, complicated by moral and\nfatalistic fancies. Thus, M\u016bnshi Muhammad, Mehindi writes: \"If the two hind\nand the near fore legs are equally blazed with white, the owner of such a\nhorse will be happy as long as he lives.\" In another place: \"The owner of a\nhorse, which, in the centre of a white blaze on its forehead, has curling\ndark hairs resembling a scorpion, will be miserly and unreasonable, will\nlose his intelligence, will be without influence and will lose his senses.\"\nAgain: \"When the near fore-foot of a horse is white it is called nosegay\nand its owner should never know fear.\" \"When the off fore of a horse is\nwhite, he is to be avoided.\" Similar ideas are expressed in European books\nof the old time.\n\nAmong horse folk, unfamiliar with books, spoken lore takes such fantastic\nforms that you would think some fabulous creature was being talked of. A\nwriter is forced to be simple in spite of himself, for the mere process of\nsetting down a fancy reduces it to orderly shape, whereas in long\nrigmaroles of talk round the dreamy h\u016bqqa, old fancies expand and are\ndistorted. And there is a purpose in elaboration. All craftsmen find it\nprofitable to shroud their art in mystery. Even in the West the esoteric\nscience of the horse expert could give points to the newest mystery of\n\"esoteric Buddhism\" and beat it easily. In India it is still more to the\ninterest of horse people to keep up the mystery; for the Raja, the Naw\u0101b,\nand persons of condition must never be allowed to judge for themselves.\n\"Commission\" is one of the High Gods of the country, and always in paying\none you pay many. The most eligible animal can be condemned for a curling\nhair or an inauspicious touch of colour by a master of horse whose palm has\nnot been properly greased. In the West also you hear of commission; but,\nthough few horse buyers exercise as much independent judgment as they\nthink, common-sense and reason have some slight share in their\ntransactions.\n\n[Illustration: A RAJA'S HORSE (WAZIRI BREED)]\n\nThere are several varieties of indigenous horses recognisable at once, and\nyou hear of more than you can discriminate. Many grains of salt must be\ntaken with horse talk generally and especially with Oriental brag of purity\nof breed. The Kathiawar horse is interesting on account of his markings,\nwhich include the asinine stripe along the back, and occasionally\nzebra-like stripes on the legs. Marw\u00e1ri horses are prized especially by\nnative chiefs for their size and form. Among the Biloch, who have strong\nArab characteristics, racing is the national pastime, but only mares are\nridden, colts being killed as soon as they are born--a practice which may\nbe expected to die out. The Biloch preference for mares is expressed in a\nsaying: \"A man with his saddle on a mare has his saddle on a horse; a man\nwith his saddle on a horse has his saddle on his head.\" Their races are a\nlittle wild and irregular if judged by a European standard, but there is no\ndoubt as to their popularity, nor as to certain good qualities of the\nanimals. If a Biloch cannot afford a whole mare, he will own as many legs\nof one as he can manage; and, as the animal has four legs, will keep her a\nquarter of a year for each leg of which he is master, after which she\npasses to the owners of the remaining legs. Akin to the Biloch is the\nWaziri horse; both remarkable for a lyre-like incurving of the ears, which\nis a beauty or a defect as the amateur may choose, and both have good\nqualities of their own. In the Him\u00e1laya there is a variety of ponies,\nsturdy g\u016bnths, and yabus that could carry a church and climb up its\nsteeple, Bhutia ponies, and many other hill sorts from Peshawar to Pegu.\nThe Manipur ponies used for polo or _chaug\u00e1n_ are mostly dun, and are\nexcellent beasts in their way, playing the game with very little help from\neither knee or bridle.\n\n[Illustration: A MONEY-LENDER ON A DECCAN PONY]\n\nThe characteristic all-pervading horse of the hot plains is the _tattoo_ or\ncountry pony, a cat-hammed, shadowy animal seldom more than thirteen and a\nhalf hands high. In the south they speak of the Deccan _tattoo_, which is a\nbetter beast than others, but there seems to be no real difference of\nbreed. Among them you often come across distinctly Arab characteristics,\nand most are dashed with the noble Arab blood. Though seldom good to look\nat, lean and unkempt, vicious and ill to handle, he is a beast of immense\npluck and endurance. The half-soldier, half-brigand bands of Pind\u0101ris who\nmade a desert of the India to which the English power succeeded, used him\nas their sumpter horse; and indeed few but the leaders rode anything else.\nThe Duke of Wellington made the acquaintance of the Deccan _tattoo_ serving\nin this capacity, and briefly described him, mentioning twenty-five rupees\nas the average price. Nowadays he is seldom so cheap; he carries the\ncultivator, his wife and children, to fair or market, and takes the village\nbanker and money-lender abroad to view the crops and collect debts. Among\nHindus he is often saddled and bridled without a morsel of leather in the\nwhole equipment.\n\nIn Bengal and Madras, non-equestrian provinces, the animal often shrinks to\na framework caricature of a pony; a heavy head hung on a long weak neck, no\nchest to speak of, inconceivably slender in girth, with weak hind legs\nworking over each other like the blades of a pair of scissors. A little boy\nof my acquaintance truthfully described this kind of pony as \"a real horse,\nbut very like a bicycle.\" In the North-West Provinces and the Punjab the\ncreature improves, is useful as a pack pony, and draws the ekka and the\n_palki g\u0101ri_. Cruel over-driving and a heartless disregard of the\ncreature's thirst are the worst features of the immense ekka traffic of\nNorthern India. Probably the pedantic rules about drinking cause more\nsuffering than anything else. The native is always drinking water, for in a\nland where to live is to sweat, you frequently want drink. But what is good\nfor him is thought bad for the pony, foaming and frothing in thirsty\nmisery.\n\n[Illustration: BOMBAY TRAM-HORSE WEARING HORSE-CAP]\n\nIt is easy to see where the Deccan _tattoo_ and the country pony generally\nget their quality from. Marco Polo wrote of a regular importation of Arab\nhorses from the Persian Gulf ports at the end of the thirteenth century. In\nthose days the vessels went up the Tanna Creek to the King of Callian. The\ntown of Callian is now a high and dry railway junction and ships cannot\nreach it, but the importation has been going on ever since in vessels of\nprobably identical build with those of the old time. You may see them in\nBombay harbour, the horses standing a-row on the bags of dates that form\npart of the cargo, looking exactly like a Noah's Ark with the lid off. From\nthe countries north of K\u00e1bul a constant immigration of the animals we call\nNorthern horses, or sometimes K\u00e1bulis, has been going on for nearly as\nlong a period, and still continues at the rate of about two thousand\nannually, according to the calculation of one of the importers most largely\nconcerned. Balkh and the adjacent regions are said to be the main source of\nthe supply of Turkoman horses. The Kafilas or caravans are mostly manned by\nnatives of Ghazni and arrive in the Punjab from K\u00e1bul in the cold weather.\nThe Amir of K\u00e1bul, through whose country they pass, exacts tolls to the\namount of Rs.32 per horse, mares pay seven rupees less, and His Highness is\nsaid to claim the pick of the droves at his own price. Many go to Bombay\nand Calcutta for the use of the tram companies, and, with the Walers in the\nsame stables, are among the few horses in the world that wear hats as a\nprotection from the sun. Mr. Griffiths of Bombay has been good enough to\nsketch for me the horse-cap in use, an eminently sensible contrivance,\nwhich has been found to protect the animals from sunstroke and headache, to\nwhich an animal from a comparatively cold country is liable. The country\npony is seldom affected by the sun, but he has not the shoulders and\nsubstance of the Northern horse.\n\nMany horses are annually imported from Australia, but they are mainly for\nthe army and wealthy people on the Bengal side of India, and are somewhat\noutside my present scope. The British Government has for many years been\ntrying to improve the horses of the country by importing English\nthoroughbreds, Arabs, and Norfolk trotters who stand as sires at the\nservice of farmers under certain conditions, which include the branding of\napproved mares. So it will be seen that the stock of the country is of a\nvaried nature. The magnificent Shire horse of England is unknown and\nprobably impossible in India.\n\n[Illustration: PUNJAB FARMER ON A BRANDED MARE]\n\nA controversy has been going on intermittently for many years as to the\nmerits of the country-bred horse and the question of Indian horse-breeding\ngenerally, which it would be impossible to summarise within reasonable\nlimits. But while the dispute has been raging, and Government has been\ntrying experiments and doing as much for horse-rearing as the diverse\ncounsel of experts seemed to justify (and no experts are quite so positive\nin assertion or so cock-sure in contradiction as horse authorities), a\nremarkable change has been brought about, and the principle of breeding in\nIndia, declared by some to be unworkable, seems to have vindicated itself.\nAt all events, within the last quarter of a century a noticeable\nimprovement has taken place in all sorts and conditions of Indian\nhorseflesh. It is true that the horse-dealer, the Raja, the turf, and the\npublic at large have reaped much of the crop sown by Government for its own\narmy, but, as the Scottish saying has it, \"What a neighbour gets is not\nlost.\" It is scarcely in the nature of things for a Government to make\nmoney in a difficult business like horse-breeding; we can only hope that\nlosing means learning. Nor is it only by the importation of thoroughbred\nEnglish and Arab sires, or by the establishment of horse-breeding farms,\nthat the influence of Government has been felt. Horse-fairs and horse-shows\nhave been encouraged in the equestrian regions with good effect. Among the\nprizes given on these occasions are good English saddlery, including\nbridles with merciful bits, which will one day supersede the cruel thorn\nbit. But that day is still a long way off.\n\nThe Indian turf has played a great part in the improved treatment of\nhorses. One does not look for the nimbus of a saint over the head of the\naverage racing man, but in India he also is a missionary, spreading no\nignoble Gospel. For it is impossible to get high speed and quality under\nthe old conditions of starveling upbringing and crippling bondage. The\ndemand for ponies suitable for polo has resulted in an immense improvement\nin pony breeding. A fair chance for development, good food, and good\ntraining are, after all, the most urgent needs of the country pony. Some\nanimals of distinction on the polo ground have been taken from the shafts\nof the ekka. The high prices given have had their effect, and polo ponies\nare now to be had which it would be hard to beat for speed, endurance, and\nhandiness, though they may not always be equal to the weight of some\nplayers. The prices, in fact, are too high, for the popularity of the game,\nits increasing fastness, and the importance given to it by inter-regimental\ntournaments, give the Indian dealer, who is as smart as any other\nhorse-dealer, a great opportunity. Formerly a subaltern of moderate means\ncould afford to buy and keep a string of tolerable animals, but now he must\npay fancy prices and often has to abandon the game. Combinations against\ndealers are frequently discussed, but are scarcely likely to succeed.\nThough smaller in size and inferior in substance, some of the best modern\nIndian animals of this sort are not unlike the \"cocktail\" of England in the\nearly days of English racing, before the final triumph of the thoroughbred;\nbut they have a more elegant contour than the cocktail pictures show, and\nare probably intrinsically better horses.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThat the roads built by the English are a most important factor in Indian\nprogress is one of the notable discoveries of the obvious that I find\nmyself compelled to announce from time to time. In ancient days sculptures\nand paintings show that horse chariots, recalling the ancient racing\nchariots of Rome, were largely used, but in more recent times the Prince\nand his Queens, as well as the peasant and his produce, were drawn by oxen\nthrough the deep ruts and mires. There is no evidence of springs until the\nearly Englishman in Calcutta or Madras put a _palki_ on springs and four\nwheels, where it has remained ever since, as the _d\u0101k g\u0101ri_ or posting\ncarriage. The _ekka_, a single-horse, springless gig, seems to be an\nindigenous carriage, and has the half-organic air that suggests antiquity.\nUnknown in the Deccan, Western India, and Sind as far north as Mooltan, it\nis the people's own \"trap\" from Peshawar through the Punjab, Hindustan, and\nparts of Bengal nearly to Calcutta. Nothing could be more characteristic\nthan the primitive, useful, and cheaply-built machine here sketched.\n\nThe tea-tray is the top of an inverted three-sided prism resting on the\naxle, so that every jolt is transmitted straight to the spines of the\noccupants, who sit doubled up in the \"two-foot-rule\" fold which the Indian\nframe seems to take by nature. A long _ekka_ drive is sharp discomfort to a\nEuropean, even when he has the tea-tray to himself; but natives to the\nmanner born pack themselves up like compressed capital N's, occupying but\nlittle more floor space when sitting than when standing, and for hours\ntranquilly maintain a position that would make a European die in an agony\nof \"pins and needles.\"\n\nIt is easy to sketch an _ekka_, but the appearance of the machine is only\npart of the impression it makes. Noise is a necessity of the Oriental\nnature; loud, continuous, strident din. So the horse is hung with bells,\nand the cart has rows of loose plates that clash like cymbals. The\nmaddening din is supposed to cheer the horse as the sheep-bell \"keeps a\nstout heart in the ram with its tinkle.\" In the dark the jingle may be\nuseful, for lamps do not enter into the _ekka_ scheme, as many an\nEnglishman has found to his cost.\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n    _The ekka, a tea-tray on wheels, dear,\n             Flies past as its occupants sit,\n    --For a pony you know never feels, dear--\n             All five pulling hard at one bit._\n\nThe _tonga_ is supposed by some to be an indigenous native of Western\nIndia. It is a low, hooded, two-wheeled dog-cart on strong springs, with a\ncentre pole to which a pair of ponies are harnessed by an iron yoke bar,\ncurricle fashion. It is much used in the Deccan, and is now the Him\u00e1layan\npost-cart running to Simla, Murree, and along the new Kashmir road. The\nvehicle has good points of its own, but its springs proclaim it a modern\ninvention; according to some an importation from the Cape of Good Hope.\nTravellers by _tonga_ often sit behind animals that are simply first-rate\nof their kind, and perfectly suited to their work.\n\nOn the lines under Government control the horses are fairly dealt by, but\non routes where the native contractor has his own way sickening examples of\nbarbarity are often seen. A large proportion of _d\u0101k g\u0101ri_, or post horses,\ncannot be started without torture. Some have ears permanently broken and\ntorn by a savage trick of wringing them with the hands and a piece of cord,\nthe twitch is mercilessly applied to the noses of others, the inside of the\nlegs is chafed with a rough rope vigorously pulled with a sawing motion;\nsometimes fire is applied, while whips and sticks ring like flails on a\nthreshing floor, and all the stable men of the stage yell and swear like\ndemons. The bad temper produced by stupid upbringing is partly to blame,\nthe mysterious nervous affection resulting in jibbing has something to do\nwith it; but dread of the pain of a collar chafing a sore is the usual\ncause of the trouble.\n\nMany of the _palki g\u0101ris_ used as hack cabs in Calcutta and other large\ntowns, owned by speculators who know nothing of their business, including\nliquor-sellers, table-servants, and even priestesses of Venus retired from\nbusiness, are drawn by scare-crows that recall in a reduced and shadowy\nform the outlines of Bewick's grim woodcut,--\"Waiting for death.\" But the\nmercy of death is denied to them.\n\nThough the North-West _ekka_, the Deccan _tonga_, the Madras _bandy_, the\nBombay and Bengal _shigram_, and other variants of the _palki g\u0101ri_ may be\nconsidered characteristically Indian, they by no means exhaust the number\nof vehicles in use; for, since the days when the craftsmen of Delhi copied\nthe English carriages sent as presents to the Great Mogul, there has been a\ncontinuous importation of the best and the worst coach work that Long Acre\ncan produce.\n\nOne of the first steps taken in technical progress was the\ncarriage-building trade, now gradually spreading over the country. Oil\npainting and varnishing, carpentry, smith's work and leather dressing, owe\nmuch to this craft. Dog-carts and numerous varieties of one-horse spring\ncarts seem to be supplanting the once universal buggy or hooded gig. The\n_brum g\u0101ri_, brougham; the _fitton g\u0101ri_, phaeton or barouche; the\n_v\u0101gnit_, waggonette, are now built in most large towns by native\ncraftsmen, springs and axle-boxes being of European make. It is of no use\nto protest against these barbarous words, for, like _b\u014dtel_ for bottle, and\n_kitli_ for kettle, with other travesties of our tongue, they are fixed in\npopular speech. The _v\u0101gnit_ seems likely to be the carriage of the future,\nbecause of its capacity. The Oriental, like the ant, goes forth in bands,\nand is capable of piling more people in, on, or about a carriage than would\nbe believed in Europe.\n\nNot only does an improvement in the vehicles in use testify to increased\nprosperity, but it ought to mean an amelioration in the condition of the\nhorse. One would like to write confidently of the future, but considering\nall that has been done by our veterinary colleges and hospitals\n(missionary efforts of the highest value), and all the influence of the\nBritish power, it must be confessed that though there is enough for an\nofficial triumph, much remains to be done before the horse of the Indian\npeople can be reckoned to have a fair chance. Nor can one who knows the\ncountry escape from the reflection that we underrate the apathy and\nindifference of its various races; alike in this, that they are and must be\nconstitutionally disinclined to take the trouble that merciful and just\ntreatment of animals in servitude involves.\n\nThe Indian farrier has some sound notions and is acquainted with a few\nvaluable remedies for disease, but he has a passion for long prescriptions,\nesteemed according to the number and nastiness of their ingredients.\nMixtures of lucky numbers of substances (always odd) must include inert or\nnoxious matter. But the mere number is part of the charm. Like the farriers\nof Britain, he is given to an abuse of the firing-iron, but cherishes a\nfaith in the pattern of the brand unknown to the Western world. He does his\nbest to make a mystery of his lore and practice, but everybody about an\nIndian stable seems to have a taste for medicine. Even in England many\ngrooms dabble in quackery and \"know of a rare fine thing for a 'oss,\"\nwhich, as a rule, were better let alone. The education of the farrier and\nof the shoeing-smith is a duty which the Government has undertaken with\nsome success. But the Oriental has a faculty of learning with seeming\neagerness and then of laying his lesson aside as one folds a garment and\nputs it away.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the West the horse goes to the smith to be shod, in the East the smith\ncomes to the horse; bringing with him a wallet full of tools, a bellows\nmade to work in a hole in the ground, and an apprentice to help him. And\nthe animal's feet are held for him in turn as shown in the accompanying\nsketch.\n\n[Illustration: AN INDIAN FARRIER]\n\nReference has been made at some length to the typical method of dealing\nwith the horses of persons of quality. It is only fair to say that in this\nfield better notions are spreading. H.H. The Maharaja of Ulwar, the\nMaharaja (late Thakore) of Bhaonagar, the Maharaja of Jodhpur, and\ndoubtless other princes, could be cited whose stables and studs, sometimes\nmanaged by English experts, show a very different picture from that usually\npresented. From a series of letters written to the _Pioneer_ by my son,\ndescribing a tour in Rajputana, I extract a description of a visit he paid\nto the establishment of a native prince well known on the Indian turf,\npremising that Colonel Parrott mentioned therein is one of the most\nsuccessful breeders of horses in India.\n\n     \"The Maharaja led on from horse-box to horse-box, pointing\n     out each horse of note, and Jodhpur has many. 'There's Raja,\n     twice winner of the Civil Service Cup.' Close to him stood\n     Autocrat, the gray with nutmeg marks on the off shoulder,--a\n     picture of a horse. Next to him was a chestnut Arab, a\n     hopeless cripple, for one of his knees had been smashed and\n     the leg was doubled up under him. It was Turquoise, who six\n     or eight years ago rewarded good feeding by getting away\n     from his groom, falling down, and ruining himself, but who,\n     none the less, has lived an honoured pensioner on the\n     Maharaja's bounty ever since. No horses are shot in Jodhpur\n     stables, and when one dies his funeral is an event. He is\n     wrapped in a white sheet, which is strewn with flowers, and\n     amid the weeping of the grooms is borne away to the burial\n     ground. After doing the honours for half an hour the\n     Maharaja left me, and as I had not seen more than forty\n     horses I felt justified in demanding more. And I got them.\n     Eclipse and Young Revenge were out, down country, but\n     Sherwood, Shere Ali, Conqueror, Tynedale, Sherwood II., a\n     maiden of Abdul Rahman's, and many others of note were in\n     and were brought out. Among the veterans, a wrathful,\n     rampant, red horse still, came Brian Boru, whose name has\n     been written large in the chronicles of the Indian turf,\n     jerking his groom across the road. His near fore is\n     altogether gone, but as a pensioner he condescends to go in\n     harness and is said to be a handful. He certainly looks it.\n     At the two hundred and fifty-seventh horse and perhaps the\n     twentieth block of stables, my brain began to reel, and I\n     demanded rest and information on a certain point. I had gone\n     into some fifty stalls and looked into all the rest, and in\n     the looking had searchingly sniffed. But, as truly as I was\n     then standing far below Brian Boru's bony withers, never the\n     ghost of a stench had polluted the keen morning air. This\n     city of the Houyhnhnms was specklessly clean, cleaner than\n     any stable, racing or private, that I had been into. How was\n     it done? The pure white sand accounted for a good deal, and\n     the rest was explained by one of the Masters of Horse. 'Each\n     horse has one groom at least; Old Ringwood he had four, and\n     we make 'em work. If we didn't we'd be mucked up to the\n     horses' bellies in no time. Everything is cleaned off at\n     once; and whenever the sand's tainted it's renewed. There's\n     quite enough sand, you see, hereabouts. Of course we can't\n     keep their coats so bright as in other stables, by reason of\n     the rolling; but we can keep 'em pretty clean.' This\n     immaculate purity was very striking, and quite as impressive\n     was the condition of the horses, which was English, quite\n     English. Naturally, none of them were in any training beyond\n     daily exercise, but they were fit and in good fettle. Many\n     of them were out on the various tracks, and many were coming\n     in. Roughly, two hundred go out of a morning.\n\n     \"It was pleasant to sit and watch the rush of the horses\n     through the great opening--gates are not affected--going on\n     to the countryside where they take the air. Here a\n     boisterous unschooled Arab, his flag spun silk in the\n     sunlight, shot out across the road and cried ha! ha! in the\n     scriptural manner, before trying to rid himself of the\n     grinning black imp on his back. Behind him a K\u00e1buli--(surely\n     all K\u00e1bulis must have been born with Pelhams in their\n     mouths)--bored sulkily across the road or threw himself\n     across the path of a tall, mild-eyed Kurn\u00e1l-bred youngster,\n     whose cocked ears and swinging head showed that though he\n     was so sedate, he was thoroughly taking in his surroundings,\n     and would very much like to know if there were anybody\n     better than himself on the course that morning. Impetuous as\n     a schoolboy and irresponsible as a monkey, one of the\n     Prince's polo ponies, not above racing in his own set, would\n     answer the query by rioting past the sedate pupil of Colonel\n     Parrott, his body cloth flapping free in the wind and his\n     head and banged tail in the air. The youngster would swing\n     himself round and polka-mazurka for a few paces, till his\n     attention would be caught by some dainty Child of the\n     Desert, an Arab fresh from the Bombay stables, sweating at\n     every sound, backing and filling like a rudderless ship.\n     Then, thanking his stars that he was wiser than some people,\n     No. 177 would lob on to the track and settle down to his\n     spin like the gentleman he was.\n\n     \"Elsewhere, the eye fell upon a cloud of nameless ones,\n     whose worth will be proved next hot weather when they are\n     seriously taken in hand--skirmishing over the face of the\n     land and enjoying themselves immensely. High above\n     everything else, like a collier among barges, screaming\n     shrilly, a black, flamboyant Marw\u00e1ri stallion, with a crest\n     like the crest of a barb, barrel-bellied, goose-rumped, and\n     river-maned, pranced through the press, while the slow\n     pacing Waler carriage horses eyed him with deep disfavour,\n     and the young prince's tiny mount capered under his pink\n     Roman nose, kicking up as much dust as the Foxhall colt,\n     dancing a saraband on a lovely patch of sand. In and out of\n     the tangle, going to or coming back from the courses, ran,\n     shuffled, rocketed, plunged, sulked, or stampeded countless\n     horses of all kinds, shapes, and descriptions--so that the\n     eye at last failed to see what they were, and retained only\n     a general impression of a whirl of bays, grays, iron-grays,\n     and chestnuts with white stockings, some as good as could be\n     desired, others average, but not one distinctly bad.\n\n     \"'We have no downright bad 'uns in this stable. What's the\n     use?' said the English Master of Horse calmly. 'They are all\n     good beasts, and one with another must cost more than a\n     thousand each. This year's new ones brought from Bombay, and\n     the pick of our own studs, are a hundred strong, about.\n     Maybe more. Yes, they look all right enough; but you can\n     never know what they are going to turn out. Live stock is\n     very uncertain.'\n\n     \"'And how are the stables managed; how do you make room for\n     the fresh stock?'\n\n     \"'Something this way. Here are all the new ones and Colonel\n     Parrott's lot and the English colts that Maharaja Pert\u00e1b\n     Singh brought out with him from home. Winterlake, out o'\n     Queen Consort, that chestnut with the two white stockings\n     you're looking at now. Well, next hot weather we shall see\n     what they are made of, and which is who. There's so many\n     that the trainer hardly knows 'em one from another till they\n     begin to be a good deal forward. Those that haven't got the\n     pace, or that the Maharaja don't fancy, they're taken out\n     and sold for what they'll bring. The man who takes the\n     horses out has a good job of it. He comes back and says: \"I\n     sold such and such for so much and here's the money.\" That's\n     all. Well, our rejections are worth having. They have taken\n     prizes at the Poona horse show. See for yourself. Is there\n     one of those there you wouldn't be glad to take for a hack,\n     and look well after, too? Only, they're no use to us, and so\n     out they go by the score. We've got sixty riding boys,\n     perhaps more, and they've got their work cut out to keep 'em\n     all going. What you've seen are only the stables. We've got\n     one stud at Bellara, eighty miles out, and they come in\n     sometimes in droves of three or four hundred from the stud.\n     They raise Marw\u00e1ris there too, but that's entirely under\n     native management. We've got nothing to do with that. The\n     natives reckon a Marw\u00e1ri the best country-bred you can lay\n     your hands on, and some of them are beauties! Crests on 'em\n     like the top of a wave. Well, there's that stud and another\n     stud, and, reckoning one with another, I should say the\n     Maharaja has nearer twelve hundred than a thousand horses of\n     his own. For this place here two waggon loads of grass come\n     in every day from Marwar Junction. Lord knows how many\n     saddles and bridles we've got! I never counted. I suppose\n     we've about forty carriages, not counting the ones that get\n     shabby and are stacked in places in the city, as I suppose\n     you've seen. We take 'em out in the morning, a regular\n     string all together, brakes and all; but the prettiest\n     turn-out we ever turned out was Lady Dufferin's pony\n     four-in-hand. Walers, thirteen two the wheelers and thirteen\n     one the leaders. They took prizes at Poona. That _was_ a\n     pretty turn-out. The prettiest in India. Lady Dufferin, she\n     drove it when the Viceroy was down here last year. There are\n     bicycles and tricycles in the carriage department too. I\n     don't know how many, but when the Viceroy's camp was held,\n     there was about one a-piece for the gentlemen with remounts.\n     How do we manage to keep the horses so quiet? You'll find\n     some of the youngsters play the goat a good deal when they\n     come out o' stable, but, as you say, there's no vice\n     generally. It's this way. We don't allow any curry-combs. If\n     we did the men would be wearing out their brushes on the\n     combs. It's all elbow-grease here. They've got to go over\n     the horses with their hands. They must handle 'em, and a\n     native, he's afraid of a horse. Now an English groom, when\n     the horse is playing the fool, clips him over the head with\n     a curry-comb, or punches him in the belly; and that hurts\n     the horse's feelings. A native, he just stands back till the\n     trouble is over. He _must_ handle the horse, or he'd get\n     into trouble for not dressing him, so it comes to all\n     handling and no licking, and that's why you won't get hold\n     of a really vicious brute in these stables. Old Ringwood, he\n     had four grooms, and he wanted 'em, every one, but the other\n     horses haven't more than one man a-piece. The Maharaja, he\n     keeps fourteen or fifteen horses for his own riding. Not\n     that he cares to ride now, but he likes to have his horses\n     and no one else can touch 'em. Then, there's the horses he\n     mounts his visitors on when they go out pig-sticking\n     (boar-hunting) and such like, and there's a lot of horses\n     that go to Maharaja Pert\u00e1b Singh's new cavalry regiment. So\n     you see a horse can go through all three degrees sometimes\n     before he is sold and be a good horse at the end of it. And\n     I think that's about all.'\"\n\nWhile speaking of the horse as he is, we are forgetting the popular\nestimate of him. In spite of ill-usage, he stands for honour and state both\namong Hindus and Muhammadans. Centuries have passed since the Aswamheda or\ngreat Hindu horse-sacrifice was celebrated, but the tradition lingers even\namong unlettered folk. As associated with _S\u016brya_, the Sun God, he is held\nin esteem. Our analytical way of explaining the inner meaning of such\nassociations is not congenial to the blandly receptive Oriental mind, which\ndoes not take its stories to pieces as if they were clocks. There may be\nastronomical facts hidden in the horses harnessed to the chariot of the\nsun, but so far as the Hindu at large is concerned, they are inventions of\nEuropean Scholars.\n\nMuhammadans unite to praise him, for the Prophet himself, who at one\ncritical time had but two horses in his whole army, and knew his value, has\nleft a formal benediction: \"Thou shalt be to man a source of happiness and\nwealth, thy back shall be a seat of honour and thy belly of riches, every\ngrain of barley given to thee shall purchase indulgence for the sinner.\"\nAlso, from the winged horses of Persian invention, akin to Pegasus, and\nBorak the mystic steed of Muhammad, he stands for fancy and imagination. A\ndreamer or a poetical person \"rides the horse of the winds.\" Swiftness and\ndespatch have for long been associated with the horse. The rapid\ntransmission of news by the horse post of the first Darius was one of the\nwonders of the ancient world, so the Persians said that the great King's\npost-riders flew faster than the cranes. Eastern proverbs and stories never\ndie, but are handed down from age to age, from hero to hero, and in recent\ntimes the Emperor Akbar's similar post still further helped to connect the\ndiffusion of news,--literature and intelligence,--with horses in the\npopular mind. Written words are still said to \"gallop on a paper horse,\"\nthe order of Government goes forth \"on a steed of air.\" The postcards of\nthe Nepal State have a little black horse stamped upon them.\n\nThen, in addition to many esoteric sayings of stable lore, there are homely\nwords in everybody's mouth. \"You can't find out the jokes of a horse, nor\nthe ailments of a baby\" hints that spirited horses have more to set them\ncapering and kicking than the human knows of. Of an old woman in gay attire\nthey say, \"An old mare in a red rein.\" Our brutal saw says, \"Old ewe, lamb\nfashion.\" The Bengalis say, \"You tell a horse by his ears and a generous\nman by his gifts,\" an inconclusive saying. _Do_ you tell a horse by his\nears, except perhaps in Bengal? \"When the horse's tail grows longer he'll\nbrush his own flies off,\" is a saying with a reference to the access of\ninfluence consequent on official promotion. The Persians say, and the\nsaying is current in India, \"It is too late to give barley when you are at\nthe foot of the hill.\" \"The Governor's (or Government officer's) mare eats\nsixty pounds of corn,\" is a common and warrantable complaint of the\nexactions of official underlings in the name of their masters.\n\nHorses take a great part in most Indian weddings, Both Hindu and Muhammadan\nbridegrooms ride in procession, while the bride is borne in a canopied\nlitter. In Bengal, however, all go on wheels, caparisoned horses being led\nto swell the show. In some hill regions both bride and bridegroom are\ncarried in litters. The equestrian marriage parade is probably an ancient\ncustom based, it may be, on the marriage by capture of which we hear so\nmuch. In Western India the bridegroom rides, covered with tinsel and gay\nclothing, in the midst of a moving square of artificial flowers and bushes,\ncounterfeiting a garden, borne on long platforms on the heads of coolies.\nIn the case of the trading Hindus of the cities this ride is often the\nfirst and last occasion of crossing a horse. The child bridegroom begins\nhis progress with a light heart, but the weight of his finery, the smoke of\nthe torches, the din of the throbbing, screaming music, and the ceaseless\nclamour soon tell, and you may see the poor little man crying as he is held\nin the saddle, or lifted off, half dead with sleep, and put into a litter.\nWhen the bridegroom is of mature age the effect is often absurdly quaint.\nPart of the wedding finery is a veil, which has come to be a dropping-well\narrangement of tinsel or cut paper fringes through which the most sensible\nface alive looks foolish. But one of the peculiarities of India is that\nnothing there is absurd. Disguises that would be grotesque and laughable in\nthe West are accepted in the East without comment.\n\nSome religious mendicants habitually ride, especially on the Punjab\nfrontier. You may also see strings of them entering the towns of the plains\nin picturesque procession. Mendicancy is an honourable profession,\npractised by many men of admirable character, and by a host of ruffians who\nlead vagabond lives, diversified by drunkenness, thieving, and debauchery.\nSome _Bair\u00e1gis_, as distinguished from other ascetics, are gathered into\nmonasteries, nor would it be easy for a purist in morals to find fault with\ntheir lives and conduct. Other sects that wander and beg have houses and\nlands; but there is no escape from the conclusion that the country,\nnotwithstanding its hidden wealth, is too poor to keep vast armies of\nable-bodied priests and beggars. The wonder is that though the respectable\nclasses complain bitterly of sanctified loaferdom, there is scarcely a\nhouse that does not periodically receive and entertain more or less godly\nloafers.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Illustration: A BEGGAR ON HORSEBACK (HINDU DEVOTEE)]\n\nConcerning the mule there is not much that can be said with propriety, for\nhis mixed descent points salt and perpetual gibes at ill-assorted marriages\nand bastards, whereon native opinion is very severe. As in \u00c6sop, when the\nmule boasts of his mother's high family, he is asked for news of his\nfather, whereupon the poor wretch is silent and ashamed. There is a strong\nprejudice in the minds of many Hindus against mule breeding as unnatural\nand improper. The degradation of the ass, the offscouring of all things, is\nprobably at the root of this. It is wicked to couple a noble creature of\ngood caste with the ignoble, impure, small-pox-defiled donkey. As to mere\ndifferences of kind, it is not likely that the Hindu would trouble his\nincurious mind; for stranger unions than this are recorded with approval.\nThus, in a countryside saying current in the Deccan, the beauty of a breed\nof cows is popularly attributed to the interference of an antelope sire. So\none might class the mule as a European introduction (he really is a\nGovernment institution); while the Hindu smiles complacently, seeing in the\ncreature a type of the irregularity and inferiority of the mixed lineages\nof the West.\n\nThe mule, however, is bred in increasing numbers, for he is an ideal pack\nanimal, born and made to carry the burdens of armies over difficult\ncountries, and good at draught. Sure of foot, hard of hide, strong in\nconstitution, frugal in diet, a first-rate weight carrier, indifferent to\nheat and cold, he combines the best, if the most homely characteristics of\nboth the noble houses from which he is descended. He fails in beauty, and\nhis infertility is a reproach, but even ugliness has its advantages. The\nheavy head of the mule is a mercy to him, for both in practice and the\nwritten orders of Government it is ordained that he is not to be bothered\nwith bearing-reins. So that big _chef_ serves its natural purposes and is\nan index, unerring as a steam engine's dial, to how much is left in him.\nWhen tired the ears droop back, losing the alert forward tilt of the\nmorning, and the head drops lower and lower. This freedom of the head gives\nadditional play to his heels, for he is a superb kicker. A spirited mule in\nfull fling radiates a rainbow of kicks, an aurora made splendid by the\nflash and flicker of his iron hoofs. With his fore-feet as a centre he\nclears for himself a sacred inviolable circle. And there are mules as handy\nwith a swift fore-foot as ever was Tom Sayers with his left. So it is\nwritten in Major Burn's official manual: \"Examining a mule's mouth with\nthe view of ascertaining his age is at times a risky operation, and the\nfollowing method is recommended: Put a halter on the mule's head and\nblind-fold him; stand well in against the near fore-shoulder, pass the hand\ngently up the neck, patting the animal as it goes, and take a firm grip of\nthe root of the ear with the right hand. Seize the upper lip and nose\nquickly and lightly with the left hand. This must be done quickly and\nresolutely, guarding against a blow from the fore-foot. In this way a\nglance at the incisors will be obtained, and it will be seen whether the\ncorner tooth is temporary or permanent.\" It is to no common animal that a\ncareful Government inscribes so respectful a tribute.\n\n[Illustration: THE WHEELS OF A MOUNTAIN BATTERY]\n\nPerhaps the finest mules in the service of the Indian Government are those\nwhich carry its mountain artillery, an arm in which equipment, adaptation\nto work, smartness and efficiency in action seem to have reached their\nhighest point. Some animals carry the guns, others ammunition chests, and\nothers the wheels of the batteries, and all are able to go anywhere. In\npictures by amateur artists you may see them represented in action on a\nmountain summit boldly outlined against the sky. But in practice this most\npicturesque position is not the best for the health of either gunners or\nmules, nor for efficient attack. There is a special science of mountain\ngunnery akin to good deer-stalking or ibex hunting. While watching a\nmountain battery at work, and studying the hill contours, you may gain some\nhint of the powers of an arm which delivers its fire from the most\nunexpected places, and seems to arrive by unseen and sheltered ways at\nexactly the proper point of attack. It is natural that the officers and men\nof so highly specialised a service should cherish an _esprit de corps_\nwhich is perhaps not exaggerated in a verse from my son's barrack-room\nballad, \"Screw-Guns\"--\n\n    \"They send us along where the roads are, but mostly we goes where they\n        ain't;\n    We'd climb up the side of a sign-board an' trust to the stick o' the\n        paint;\n    We've chivied the Naga an' Lushai, we've give the Afreedee man fits,\n    For we fancies ourselves at two thousand, we guns that are built in two\n        bits.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nOF ELEPHANTS\n\n    \"The torn boughs trailing o'er the tusks aslant,\n      The saplings reeling in the path he trod,\n    Declare his might,--our lord the elephant,\n      Chief of the ways of God.\n\n    \"The black bulk heaving where the oxen pant,\n      The bowed head toiling where the guns careen,\n    Declare our might,--our slave the elephant,\n      The servant of the Queen.\"\n\n                                         R. K.\n\n[Illustration: FROM THE SANCHI TOPE]\n\n\nThe Elephant has always been one of the wonders of the world, amazing in\nhis aspect and full of delightful and surprising qualities. Nor does\nfamiliarity lessen his hold upon the imagination of mankind. Next after the\ncow he seems to be of all the beasts the Hindu favourite. At the present\nmoment the most carefully-kept studs of Elephants are in the hands of Hindu\nRajas, and the Muhammadan Naw\u0101b prefers the horse. This is an ancient\npredilection on the part of the Hindu. While other animals represented in\nHindu Art are merely decorative and conventional, or awkward and\nill-understood, there is invariably a strong feeling for nature in Hindu\nelephant sculptures and paintings. The contrast may be noticed in most old\ntemples, but especially in the sculptured gates or tori of the Sanchi tope\nin Central India, where all kinds of animals are shown, but the elephant\nalone is carved with complete knowledge, and unvarying truth of action.\n\nThe grave beast is as great a favourite of the poet as of the artist. The\nback view of the elephant as he shuffles along, is like nothing so much as\nthat of the stout and elderly \"long-shore\" fisherman and sailor of our\nEnglish watering-places, whose capacious nether garments, alone among human\nhabiliments, have the horizontally creased bagginess peculiar to the\nelephant. Dickens said long ago that the elephant employs the worst tailor\nin all the world. But these wrinkled columns suggest feminine grace to the\nOriental poet, and \"elephant-gaited\" is the supreme and also the invariable\nexpression for the voluptuous movements of women: \"A voice as sweet as that\nof the Koil, and a gait as voluptuous as that of the elephant: An eye like\nthe antelope's, a waist like the lion's, and a gait like the elephant's,\"\nare specimens of an endless series of descriptions of female beauty. Nor\nare these expressions confined to ancient poetry, for they are as current\nto-day as ever they were. Walking behind elephants and women, I have\noccasionally seen a hint of the poet's meaning, but only a hint; and one\nis driven to the conclusion that the simile, like many more in Oriental\nverse, is mainly conventional. The beast gets along so quietly he might\nalmost be said to glide, but his movements have little of the fine rhythmic\nswing and poise one sees in the noble gait of a well-formed Hindu woman.\n\n[Illustration: GAN\u00c9SHA (FROM AN ANCIENT HINDU SCULPTURE)]\n\nAs furnishing a head to Gan\u00e9sa, Gan\u00e9sh, or Ganpati, the wise and humorous\ngod who is invoked at the beginning of all enterprises, whose auspicious\nimage is placed over most Hindu doorways, and whose mystic sign (familiarly\nspoken of as a Gan\u00e9sh) stands on the first page of Hindu ledgers and\nday-books, the elephant has an immense hold on the affections of the\npeople. His sign \u534d is the _svastika_, the cross fylfot of our Western\nheraldry and the hermetic cross of Freemasonry, traceable from Troy town to\nChina. The traveller and the pilgrim look to Gan\u00e9sha for protection, the\nmerchant for fortune, the student for advancement, and the housewife for\nluck.\n\n[Illustration: SHIV OR MAHADEO, WITH THE INFANT GAN\u00c9SH (FROM AN INDIAN\nLITHOGRAPH)]\n\nThe popular version of the origin of Gan\u00e9sha is that during one of the\nabsences of the great Lord Shiva, Parbati his wife, taking a bath, rubbed\nsome tiny pellets off her skin and amused herself by moulding them into the\nform of a child, till at last she breathed life into it. Shiva returned and\nwas outraged to find a baby where no baby should be, so he promptly cut off\nits head with his sharp war-quoit. Then Parbati explained and Shiva said in\neffect: \"Dear me! this is very sad, why did not you speak sooner?\" Then,\ncatching sight of an elephant standing near, he cut off its head and\nclapped it on the decapitated baby. \"Now, it's all right!\" said he, \"I was\nalways rather hasty.\" And, to make amends, he ordained that in every\nenterprise Gan\u00e9sa's name should be the first called upon. So the elephant's\nhead grew on the God-like body, that is to say, on the corpulent body of a\nwell-fed Baniya, who in his four hands bears suitable emblems,--a disc or\nwar-quoit, sometimes interpreted as a cake, an elephant goad, a\nsacrificial shell, and a lotus. His seat is a lotus, and his steed or v\u00e2han\na rat. In this state he sits over thousands of Hindu doors. His effigy is\nmodelled in clay and gaily painted for most Hindu households in Western\nIndia, and on his great feast-day, after four days' worship, thousands of\nsuch effigies are borne with shouting and rejoicing to be thrown into the\nsea or the nearest water. If Gan\u00e9sha stood he would be the very image of\nmany fat, rupee-worshipping Baniyas, to be seen all over India,--even\nas--with some irreverence--I have ventured to draw him. But he never\nstands, though a fat man is often spoken of as a \"cow-dung Gan\u00e9sh.\"\n\nAlthough at first sight merely monstrous to Western eyes, this quaint\npersonage grows in interest as one learns his attributes and becomes\nfamiliar with his character and person. He seems, as he sits meditatively\npoising his heavy head, to be the Nick Bottom of the Hindu Pantheon, with a\ntouch of the jovial humour immemorially associated with fat men. Like\nFalstaff, he appears to chuckle over his bulk and to say, \"I cannot tell\nwhether it is the weight of my head or of my belly (in Southern India he is\nfamiliarly known as the belly God) that prevents my rising, but here I sit\nand survey mankind with cheery geniality.\" Campbell in his \"Pleasures of\nHope\" speaks of \"Gan\u00e9sa sublime,\" which to those who know him for what he\nis,--the sagacious and respectable \"God of getting on\"--is a deliciously\nincongruous epithet and a false quantity besides.\n\n[Illustration: IF GAN\u00c9SHA STOOD]\n\nHe is mixed up in countryside stories with mere human creatures in a\nfriendly fashion which shows that he is a popular favourite. Thus, once\nupon a time Shiva and Parbati were strolling about on the earth, and they\nvisited a temple of Shiva, in the precincts of which sat a poor beggar-man\nasking for alms. Parbati said to her awful husband, \"It is really too bad\nthat this man, who has been begging here for years in your name, should not\nbe better provided for. I call it discreditable.\" They passed, wrangling,\ninto the court of the temple till Shiva impatiently cried: \"Ho! Gan\u00e9sha.\"\nThe voice of Gan\u00e9sha came from the inside--\"Ho!\" \"Let something be done for\nthe tiresome beggar-man your mother has been bothering me about!\" \"Very\ngood; I will see that he has a lakh of rupees within the next three days.\"\n\"That will do,\" said the great Mahadeo, and he passed away with his\nquarrelsome wife. Now, while they were talking, a Hindu Baniya (dealer and\nmoney-lender) was standing hidden behind the pillars, and though nearly\nfrightened to death, he cast about in his greedy mind how to secure that\nlakh of rupees. So he went to the unconscious beggar, sitting in the outer\ncourt, and asked about his earnings. \"My earnings are nothing,\" said the\nbeggar, \"sometimes a copper or two, sometimes only cowries, sometimes a\nhandful of rice or pulse;--nothing.\" Pretending to be interested in the\nmatter from mere curiosity, the usurer offered five rupees for all the\nbeggar earned during the next three days. Startled by this large sum, the\nbeggar held back, protesting the Baniya would be a loser, whereupon more\nwere offered. The talk went on in the dawdling inconclusive way that only\nthose who have tried to strike a bargain in India can understand, till\nfinally the beggar insisted on consulting his wife. As frequently happens\nin Indian stories, as in Indian life, she was a very clever woman: \"Depend\nupon it that usurer is after no good; offered you fifty rupees, did he?\nThen it's worth more than fifty times as much. God knows how, but that's\nnot our affair. Go back and don't give over bargaining even if you go as\nhigh as half a lakh of rupees.\"\n\nThe beggar went back and the bargain began again, and was finally closed at\nhalf a lakh of rupees, which were duly brought to the wondering mendicant.\n\nThe usurer hung round the temple, anxious to see how Gan\u00e9sha would bestow\nthe lakh of rupees on the beggar-man. At last he heard the approach of the\nGods, and as they passed the beggar, the mother of Death and Life asked\nShiva if anything had been done for him. Again Gan\u00e9sha was summoned, and as\nShiva spoke, the great stone threshold of the temple rose from its place\nand jammed the trembling usurer's leg against the wall. Said Gan\u00e9sha--\"It\nis all right! the beggar has received half of the promised lakh of rupees,\nand I've got the man who owes him the other half fast by the leg here, and\nhe will not be released till he has paid the uttermost farthing.\"\n\nThen that covetous one's liver was turned to water, for he knew that he who\nowes to the Gods must pay.\n\nWhen a native storyteller repeats a triviality of this kind, one seems to\nsee the belly-god asleep in the dusk of the temple and to hear the rustle\nof his dry trunk uncoiling as he awakes, the jovial carelessness of his\nvoice echoing in the carved vaults and roof, and his chuckle of\nsatisfaction as the usurer is caught.\n\nThere is no trace of the humorous and friendly vulgarity by which Gan\u00e9sha\nthe elephant-headed and Hanum\u0101n, the monkey god, are distinguished among\nthe Gods of the Vedas, where the clouds sail high; while the comparative\nrarity of their sculptures in the older temples shows that they had at\nfirst but a small share in official mythology.\n\nHere it may be worth while to say of the popular impression that the Vedas\nare text-books of Hinduism, that it is incorrect. Most educated Hindus talk\nof the Vedas, and modern Hindu reformers, like Rammohun Roy, Keshub Chandra\nSen, and Dayanand Saraswati, insisted that the Vedas contain the elements\nof all the religion the world can want; but to whip a dead horse with deep\nemotion and lively faith does not necessarily bring it to life again, and\nthe Vedas have been dead for centuries. Their literary resurrection is part\nof the revival of Oriental Scholarship brought about by European Scholars\nsuch as Colebrooke and his many successors. It has been said by a competent\nauthority that nine hundred and ninety-nine of every thousand Hindus know\nnothing about them, and that they are not Hindu in any real sense.\n\nIn the earliest myths the elephant is said to take the place of thunder and\nlightning, and is one of the steeds of Indra, but while horses and cows\nare perpetually referred to, mentions of the elephant are comparatively\nrare. The Solar Garuda still survives--(the Brahminy kite is called a\ngaruda in Southern India),--and he carries an elephant in his beak as in\nthe Hindu epics. The ancient fantasy that four elephants support the four\ncorners of the earth is still alive, and they are thus represented in\nmystic diagrams printed and painted on calico for Hindu Jogis. Pictures and\nsculptures of the goddess Lakshmi show her seated while elephants pour\nwater over her head from vases upheld in their trunks. It seems fair to\nconclude that though the elephant was a favourite of the earlier poets, he\ncame late to his present high place in the celestial company through the\nside door of popular liking. It is also possible that he was admitted late\nbecause he was unknown to the earliest writers.\n\nBuddhism, now dead and done with as far as India proper is concerned,--and\nso overgrown with fungous growth of idolatry and demonolatry in other lands\nas to be almost unrecognisable,--has its elephant legends. The elephant\ntakes the place of the dove in the Annunciation to Maya Devi of the coming\nof the Bodis\u00e1t. She lies asleep and the creature appears to her in many\nsculptures at Amravati and Southern India, but, hitherto, only once in the\nextensive series from the North-West frontier where the Buddhist legend is\ntold with more than a mere touch of the classic Art of Europe. Another\nincident of the legend is the miracle of the subjugation of the elephant,\nmade _mast_ or frenzied by Devaditta, the envious schismatic, and sent to\nmeet and murder the Lord Buddha. They met as the conspirator hoped, but\ninstead of trampling the master underfoot, the creature stood still and\nworshipped as Buddha touched its forehead. Later stories tell of an\nelephant's body hurled an immense distance by the Lord Buddha, but they\nbelong to a cycle of incrustations of dead matter.\n\nAn ancient use of the elephant has come to light in the copperplate and\nother inscriptions which are all that is left to record early Hindu\ndynasties. Grants of land, wells, and buildings made for religious purposes\nwere set forth in poetical terms in inscriptions which are often of great\nlength. Frequently, in fixing a boundary an elephant was turned loose and\nthe course the wise beast took was accepted as the limit of the grant. How\nhe went north by such and such a stream, then turned north-east towards a\nclump of mango trees and so forth, is elaborately described; the notion\nevidently being that the elephant was heaven-directed. But one can see the\nastute attendant Brahmans from here, skilled in directing the heavenly\nintuitions of both men and beasts to their own profit. The praises of kings\nas rehearsed on these documents are monuments of hyperbole. Rutting\nelephants, fighting elephants, thousands of elephants, millions of\nelephants, billions of elephants frenzied with blood and irresistible in\nstrength, are as naught to these monarchs of the prime, who also are\nrepresented as miracles of benevolence and virtue. No superlative is too\nstrong for these absurd rigmaroles, among which antiquarians grope in\nsearch of a fact, a name, or a date. There are many lies in history, but\nHindu writers are remarkable for having deliberately and of set principle\nignored all the facts of life. All is done, however, with such an air of\nconviction and pious purpose that we must use Dr. Johnson's kindly\ndiscrimination and say they are not inexcusable, but consecrated liars.\n\nI know a Jemadar of Mahouts, _i.e._ a head elephant keeper, who says there\nis a tradition among men of his craft that elephants first came to India\nfrom the farthest East,--\"from China and beyond.\" This notion was supported\nby quotations from elephant words of command, some of which \"are not Indian\ntalk and must be Chinese\" (or Burmese). An elephant driver's philology may\nnot command much respect, but the notion is worth mentioning. The Sanscrit\nword _h\u0101thi_, the \"handed\" one (Lord Tennyson, following Lucretius, says,\n\"serpent handed\"), in popular use is less used by mahouts than the Pali,\n_gaj_, frequently compounded with weapons, flowers, etc., to make a name,\nas _Kat\u00e1r-gaj_--dagger elephant; _Moti-gaj_--pearl elephant. The Persian\nword _pil_ is also used,--the chess bishop is a _pilah_ or elephant, and an\nelephant stable is a _pil-khana_. No beast has so many pretty names; Pearl,\nDiamond, Necklace of Beauty, Lightning, Lily, Rose, Jasmine, Lotus, Silver\nStar, Garland of Flowers, Golden One, Black Snake, are a few, and the\nheroes and heroines of poetry also lend their names to my lord the\nelephant, and testify to the esteem in which he is held. For female\nelephants the word _piy\u0101ri_, love or darling, is frequently added to some\npretty female name, as _Radha piy\u0101ri_; (Radha is Krishna's wife). Mahouts\nalso claim that he is the only animal in man's service who is told in so\nmany words to eat and sleep. As a matter of fact, although there may be a\nword of command for sleep, it can be of little use, for no creature sleeps\nso little or so lightly,--seldom for more than four hours out of the\ntwenty-four.\n\nA popular and ancient name for a king is _Gajpati_, Elephant Lord. The\nbeast is a pageant in himself, and when arrayed as only the Oriental knows\nhow, he is splendid in colour and majestic in mass. The finest part of the\nceremonial at the Delhi Imperial assemblage, was the great fleet of\nelephants riding at anchor, so to speak, among the serried waves of troops\nand people. When the tremendous _feu-de-joie_ that followed the\nproclamation was fired, there was a movement of alarm among these mighty\ncreatures. \"That startled them,\" we said, but did not guess the truth, that\nseveral people were killed in the crush that followed the slight stir we\nsaw in the distant host as when a breeze stirs the growing corn. Kings are\nnot now the only lords of elephants, for a significant sign of the\nprosperity of the country is the possession of elephants by men whose\nfathers never owned them, and whose rank would be better represented by the\nword Squire than Lord. Many merchants and traders can now better afford the\nglory of elephants than real kings. There is a Raja in the hills,--a very\nsmall Raja,--with a very small income, exactly four-fifths of which are\nspent in maintaining an elephant, the awe and admiration of his little\nhandful of subjects. They all spend much of their large staple of leisure\nover the elephant, and rightly too, for he is a more imposing symbol than a\ncrown and sceptre or a diamond plume, and when their Raja rides forth, they\nfollow him with pride and shouting.\n\nThough essentially amiable, the elephant was often made to serve as public\nexecutioner by native princes in the ante-British days. Sometimes the\nvictim was bound hand and foot, then the living log was chained with a\nfathom long chain to the hind foot of an elephant which was swiftly hurried\nthrough the city for all to see the battering out of his life. It is only a\nyear or two since the executioner elephant of a Hill State, which was known\nto have killed a large number of persons in his official capacity, died\nfrom cold while crossing a mountain pass. The Raja to whom he belonged\ntowards the close of his career was more than half mad and led his little\ncourt a terrible life. He used to appear in durbar saying: \"I have been\ndreaming of such an one, let him be slain.\" A respectable old gentleman\nwhose forehead was disfigured by a scar, told a friend of mine how it was\nonce his fate to be dreamed of and ordered for execution, and how he was\nonly saved at the last moment by a friendly W\u0103zir or Minister suggesting to\nthe Raja that if the poor man paid a fine of a thousand rupees and was\nbranded on the brow, he would probably take care in the future not to\ninterfere with His Highness's dreams, whereas if he were killed outright\nhis ghost would surely reappear. This argument prevailed for once. It was\nthe Raja's pleasure to officiate as mahout on these occasions. The bound\nvictim was handed to the elephant, who at the word of command seized him\nwith his trunk and whirled him right and left against his fore-legs with\nthe familiar action, peculiar to elephants, of swishing the dust from each\nwisp of provender before putting it into the mouth. Then he was thrown on\nthe ground and kicked from fore to hind feet to and fro, then his arms were\nwrenched from his body. Then the great feet came down upon him in turn, and\nat a final word he was knelt upon; the now lifeless body being crushed to a\nshapeless mass. And all was done with a slow deliberation of ordered\nmovement that must have been terrible to see. Dr. Wolff describes another\nhill Raja as a most stupid and ignorant man, and \"the most horrid brute\nthat ever lived. His great delight was to ride upon an elephant, which was\nmade to tread upon a little child, so as to crush it to death.\"\n\nYet cruelty ought not to be a tradition of the Him\u00e1laya, for the only\nOriental I have seen shed a tear for an animal was a W\u0103zir or Minister of\nthat same Hill State, which need not be named here. Once at a\nhalting-place far in the hills, leaning on a rail with a friend, we watched\nthe sunset. At a little distance a pony was grazing on a tiny green meadow\nterrace above the road. As we looked we saw with amazement that the pony\nwas disappearing, hind-quarters first, until it sank completely out of\nsight; nor, from our point of view, was there any apparent solution of\ncontinuity in the green carpet on which but now it stood. One of those\nabsurd occurrences that incline you to pinch yourself to feel if you are\nawake,--it was in reality quite simple. The meadow was the roof of some\nlong disused huts, and the rotten timbers supporting the soil had given\nway, letting the surprised pony down into a sort of cellar. The beast was\nthe property of a W\u0103zir returning with his retinue from a visit to Simla,\nand his grief was quaintly demonstrative. Weeping hard, he laid alongside\nthe chasm trying to embrace his steed, nearly tumbling in himself, and\nwhile we were busy with ropes and timbers hauling the creature up and\ncontriving that he should emerge on the side towards the hill, the good\nW\u0103zir distractedly hovered round, wringing his hands, and doing less than\nnothing in the work of rescue. The pony was never in danger, was no whit\nthe worse, but its master's tears were real and his words of sympathy were\nsincere.\n\nThe real character of the elephant has been studied exhaustively and\ndescribed once for all by Mr. G. P. Sanderson in his admirable book,\n_Thirteen years among the wild beasts of India_. Mr. Sanderson is not only\na master of Indian woodcraft and a Nimrod of varied experiences, but a most\nsympathetic observer of animal life and character, and yet as acute and\ndiscriminating as a Judge on the Bench. He has disposed of the wonderful\nstories of cunning and devotion attributed to the elephant, such as the\ndouche of dirty water thrown over the spiteful ninth-part man who pricked\nthe creature's trunk with his needle, and the artilleryman snatched from\nunder the wheel of a gun. Mr. Sanderson also says that \"the natives of\nIndia never speak of the elephant as a peculiarly intelligent animal, and\nit does not figure in their ancient literature for its wisdom, as do the\nfox, the crow, and the monkey.\" My experience is that the popular estimate\nof the elephant's character and intelligence is a high one; and with regard\nto the neglect of the animal by ancient writers as a type of wisdom we\nshould remember that Oriental poetry and legend have adopted from the\nearliest times a series of similitudes to which they adhere with mechanical\nfidelity. There is a polity of animals, so to speak. The jackal is cunning\nand clever; the tiger is fierce and deadly, but may be most ignominiously\ndeceived and played with by clever jackals and old women; the crow is sly\nand ready; the parrot is wise, a tale-bearer, and full of resource; the\nmonkey is intelligent and kin to man; the serpent, when he is not a prince\nbewitched, is secret, malignant, and powerful; the dove is gentle; the deer\nand the antelope are tender and affectionate, pious Brahmans of the\njungle--and so forth and so following; but the elephant invariably appears\nas the image of power and might in war. Kings are elephants and so are\ngreat warriors. Ticketed, as it were, with this lordly label, the poet and\nthe storyteller of the prime, whose means were simple and whose\ndiscriminations were broad, would hesitate to notice in the elephant homely\nqualities already assigned to the jackal, the crow, and the monkey.\n\nThe permanent retention of the elephant as the type of martial prowess is\nanother illustration of the merely literary and unobservant quality of\nmuch of the work for which our admiration is challenged by scholars. The\nreal fact of the animal's nature is gentleness. His trunk might be packed\nfull of the jewels of which he is said to carry a priceless sample in his\nhead, so careful is he to guard it from danger. Nor is he cautious without\na cause. He cannot live without his trunk, and though guarded by a pair of\nivory bayonets, it is as vulnerable as a garden slug. It is admitted in a\nsaying still current that \"the mad elephant destroys its own army.\" If, for\nmad, we say frightened, we reach the main truth of elephant warfare from\nthe time of Porus to that Mohurrum f\u00eate day when Raja Sahib drove his\nelephants with iron-clad brows against the gates of Arcot, and Clive's\nbullets sent them raging back to trample on their own masters.\n\nMr. Sanderson speaks of mahouts as \"rascals more often than not,\" and as\n\"invariably superstitious and ignorant.\" They tell and believe of the\nbeasts in their charge more wonderful stories of intelligence than any in\nour children's books. These stories have spread and are so firmly credited\nthat I venture to question his assertion that natives of India never speak\nof the animal as peculiarly intelligent. A mahout told me and a group of\nnative friends, of an elephant that cherished a grudge against his driver,\nwho, being aware of this, kept carefully out of the animal's reach, and on\nthe march spread his sleeping-blanket at what he thought a safe distance.\nBut one night the elephant chewed the end of a long bamboo till the fibres\nwere loose and brush-like, and, pushing it \"gently, gently, slowly,\nslowly,\" towards his sleeping enemy, whose long hair was loose, twisted the\nbamboo so that its fibres were firmly entangled, and before he could awake\npulled the poor wretch within reach of the quick kicking feet, which\npromptly made an end of him.\n\nAll my friends believed this terrible tale, and so did I,--for the moment;\nand that is quite enough for all artistic and Oriental purposes.\n\nThey also gave credit to a calculating elephant who was allowed a ration of\ntwelve flap-jacks of wheaten meal for his supper. But the mahout had a\nlarge family and appropriated one of the cakes. The wise elephant turned\nthe pile over and laid out the eleven cakes in a row, trumpeting loudly\nwhen the master came by; so that mahout was beaten with shoes.\n\nAnother tale, for which I do not claim implicit belief, tells of an\nelephant who with his mahout was engaged to root up bushes in a tea garden.\nThe mahout, like more of his class, was in the habit of going on periodical\ndrinking bouts. Once he asked for ten days' leave to attend a funeral,\nassuring the Planter that he could instruct his beast to work faithfully\nunder the goad of a substitute who was there and then introduced, while the\nelephant was formally charged to behave well and work hard during his\nmaster's ten days of absence. But the funeral was a very thirsty one, and\non the eleventh day the mahout had not returned. The substitute came\nrushing up to the Planter's bungalow, crying that the elephant refused to\nwork. The British Planter said he would see about that, took his whip, and\nwent to reason with him, but presently came back at his highest speed,\nfollowed by the angry beast with uplifted trunk. The coolies ran away in\nfright, and for two days my lord the elephant roamed round the deserted\ngardens at his leisure. On the thirteenth day the mahout returned and was\nreceived with gladness by the animal, who forthwith set about his work\nwith a will; but they say the Planter, being a bloated capitalist, refused\nto retain a creature which could go on strike to such purpose as to shut up\nthe whole concern.\n\nMahouts also believe that when a wild elephant is coming downhill and\ncannot reach forward with his trunk to sound a dangerous foot-hold, he\nbreaks a sapling and, holding it like an alpen-stock, probes and feels his\nway. Colonel Lewin tells me of a belief in the Chittagong Hill tracts, that\nwild elephants assemble together to dance! Further, that once he came with\nhis men on a large cleared place in the forest, the floor beaten hard and\nsmooth, like that of a native hut. \"This,\" said the men, in perfect good\nfaith, \"is an elephant nautch-khana\"--ballroom. It is a common remark that\nstout people are often light dancers, and sometimes most eligible partners.\nThe elephant, in spite of his bulk, is both on land and water a very\nbuoyant person, quick on his feet and, in his deliberate way, as clever a\nkicker as a mule, which is saying a great deal. There is therefore no\nreason why he should not dance, and I confess to a deep envy of the Assam\ncoolie, who said he had been a hidden unbidden guest at an elephant ball.\nElephants are easily taught to dance by American and European circus\ntrainers; and it is recorded by an American trainer that elephants off\nduty, left entirely to themselves, have been seen to rehearse the lessons\nthey have learned. Let us believe, then, until some dismal authority\nforbids us, that the elephant _beau monde_ meets by the bright Indian\nmoonlight in the ballrooms they clear in the depths of the forest, and\ndance mammoth quadrilles and reels to the sighing of the wind through the\ntrees and their own trumpeting, shrill and sudden as the Highlander's hoch!\n\nIt is firmly believed that dead elephants are buried by their kind. Mr.\nSanderson admits that he is unable to account for the total absence of\ntheir remains in the jungle, and so gives us leave to share for once in an\nOrient mystery, dim and inscrutable. The free-thinking native who solves it\nby boldly claiming that the great beasts, left to themselves, do not die at\nall, does not diminish the marvel, which still remains to delight all those\nwho love to wonder.\n\nIt is natural that a creature so highly esteemed should be made to reflect\nthe popular conception of Hindu character in its weaknesses and failings as\nwell as in its placid and gentle strength. He is believed with little cause\nto be keenly sensitive; they say he breaks his heart like a proud Rajput,\nand dies at will of resentment or grief. So do some Orientals. He is said\nto have a memory for insult or injury as tenacious as that of a usurer for\na debt, and soon or late he will be even with his oppressor. He can be\ntaught to master his natural timidity, and when properly led he will face\nthe tiger in his lair, but he is not ashamed to fly before a little dog. In\nsickness he comes very close to the human, for the mahouts say he resigns\nhimself like a native when stricken with fever; when he lies down they give\nhim up, for he gives up all hope of himself, and against a despair of that\nbulk there is no argument. He is liable to sudden bursts of rage, and can\nsulk in ill-temper for days at a time. When downright mad nothing can stand\nbefore him. Death in Hindu poetry and talk is a mad elephant, for who shall\nstay him? Love and lust are also mad elephants, blind, unreasoning, and\ncruel.\n\n\"There are many footsteps in the footprint of the elephant,\" for elephant\nlords have many followers. In most native forts and palaces there are\nelephant paths and high-arched elephant gates, slopes or stairways of wide\ntread, down which the State elephants march, taking the women of the Zenana\nor their lords for an airing. The milky way in the heavens is sometimes\ncalled the elephant's path. Silver ingots of a certain shape are\n\"elephant's feet\" and among silversmiths the name is used to discriminate a\nquality of silver.\n\n[Illustration: AN ELEPHANT GOAD (ANKUS)]\n\nIn Assam, where they are familiar with elephants, they say, \"The elephant\nbrings forth one at a birth, the pig ten.\" \"A small elephant is still\nlarger than a big buffalo,\" and \"Bamboos are tied with bamboos and\nelephants are caught by elephants,\" are also sayings from that region.\nWhere the Englishman would say the back of a job was broken, or \"All is\nover but the shouting,\" an Oriental often says, \"The elephant is out, only\nthe tail remains.\" \"Teeth for use and teeth for show,\" carries an\nunderstood allusion to the elephant, who has tremendous molars hidden in\nhis head as well as handsome external tusks. Sometimes for state occasions\nan animal with poor or elementary tusks is fitted with a jury pair, a feat\nof dentistry of which mahouts are proud. To the over-bold who would meddle\nwith the great it is said: \"Would you snatch sugar-cane from an elephant?\"\n\"The dog may bark but the elephant moves on\" is sometimes said to indicate\nthe superiority of the great to popular clamour, but the best form of the\nphrase is, \"Though the dog may bark the caravan (_kafila_) moves on.\" For\nthe elephant hates and fears dogs as much as some great men of to-day hate\nnoisy newspapers, and with better reason. Nature, in furnishing the beast\nwith a soft and tender trunk, has bound him down to keep the peace with all\ncreation. That in spite of this disability he can be brought to face the\ntiger shows convincingly the docility and superiority of his nature. Yet\nthough the beast is counted lordly, he still has a master, so they say\nagain, \"The elephant's god is his goad.\" Big things and men are naturally\ncalled elephantine. Maharaja Ranjit Singh used to speak of the fine English\ncart-horses sent out to him as a gift from the English Government as his\n\"elephant horses,\" and he tied them up and fed them to death in the native\nfashion with great pride and satisfaction. \"When the handed one puts forth\nhis handiness, a man is but a fly before him,\" is a clumsy paraphrase of a\nsaying that plays with the word _h\u0101thi_. \"The poor have no friends, but\nelephants wait at the rich man's door,\" is one of the rare complaints of\nIndian lowliness. It is doubtful whether any other races in the world are\nmore free from envy. The beggar cries, \"God will give you an elephant to\nride on, I'll take a farthing to-day.\" When English girls marry, their\nparents say they are sorely grieved to lose them; but Indian fathers are\nfrank, and acknowledge at once the trouble and cost of daughters and\nelephants in \"The daughter is best at her father-in-law's house, as the\nelephant is best at the Raja's.\"\n\nA man's saying is \"A man at sixty is a young elephant, a woman at twenty is\ngrowing old.\" There is a fine braggadocio in this, but the honest truth is\nthat the Indian woman has not a fair chance, being deliberately sacrificed\nby the custom of too early marriage. English poets write prettily of Hindu\nmaidens, but there are no Hindu maidens in any true sense. A brutal saying\nlike this drives home the fact that millions of girls, bright and charming\nas any in the world, are deprived of that period of spring-time freedom and\nlightness of heart which is their birthright. Nor is there any excuse for\nthis deprivation, for it has been demonstrated that the Indian woman comes\nno earlier to maturity than her sister in the West. And the Hindu man at\nsixty is like a young elephant in nothing save bulk.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe docility of the elephant is never more evident than when he is dressed\nfor parade on an occasion of state. It is a long and tiresome business to\nclothe the creature in the ornaments and housings with which luxuriant\nOriental taste loves to bedizen him. You may make a four-post bedstead very\nsplendid in a cinque-cento or a Louis Quatorze manner; a horse can carry a\ngreat load of finery; even men and women, duchesses, actresses, kings and\nqueens, stagger proudly under fine trappings, but the elephant is made for\ndisplay as a mountain range for sunset effect. Sir Henry Cole, in years\ngone by, used to contemplate the vast brick walls built by Captain Fowke\nfor the 1862 Exhibition, and say, \"That is a surface which invites\ndecoration.\" The fa\u00e7ade of the nude elephant is no less noble and no less\nurgent in its appeal to the eye. But the great beast, shifting uneasily on\nhis feet, does not always take kindly to his trappings, and is much less\nsteady than a brick wall.\n\n[Illustration: UNDRESS]\n\n[Illustration: A PAINTED ELEPHANT]\n\nYet at the worst there is little more difficulty in decking the elephant\nthan in dressing a fidgety child for church. First he must be washed,\nsometimes at a well-brink, where, if properly taught, he draws his own\nwater, but an irrigation cut or tank is generally preferred, where the\ngreat baby is made to lie down, to raise his head or leg at a word, while\nthe mahout, often assisted by his son, who assumes tremendous airs of\nauthority if he is very young, climbs about his huge bulk and scrubs him\nwith brick-bats. A brick flesh-rubber is in common use for men's feet, and\nseems to suit the elephant perfectly. But the creature is generally\ninattentive during the process, he \"plays with the soap\" so to speak, blows\nclouds of vapour from his trunk, lifts up the wrong leg, rolls over at the\nwrong minute, and is scolded like a child, with now and then, from a hasty\nmahout as from an irritable nursemaid, a blow. When the washing is finished\nhe slings his nurses up to his neck with his trunk, or gives them a \"leg\nup\" behind in the friendly fashion peculiar to him, and shuffles back to\nthe serai or yard to be dressed. If the occasion be a very grand one, a day\nor two will be consumed in preparations. First the forehead, trunk, and\nears are painted in bold patterns in colour. This is a work of art, for the\ndesigns are often good, and the whole serai, excepting always the elephant\nhimself, is deeply interested. His mind and trunk wander; he trifles with\nthe colour pots; so with each stroke comes an order to stand still. Some\nmahouts are quite skilful in this pattern work. Then the howdah pad is\ngirthed on with cotton ropes riding over flaps of leather to prevent the\nchafing to which the sensitive skin is liable. The howdah itself, a\ncumbrous frame of wood covered with beaten silver plates, is slung and\ntied with a purchase on the tail-root, and heavy cloths broidered in raised\nwork of gold and silver thread are attached, hanging like altar cloths down\nthe sides. A frontlet of gold and silver diaper with fringes of fish-shaped\nornaments in thin beaten silver, necklaces of large silver hawk-bells and\nchain work, with embossed heart-shaped pendants as big as the open hand,\nand hanging ornaments of chains of silver cartouches, are adjusted. A\ncresting of silver ornaments like small vases or fluted soup tureens,\nexaggerations of the knobs along a horse's crest, descend from the rear of\nthe howdah to the tail, anklets of silver are sometimes fitted round the\nhuge legs, and a bell is always slung at his side. The pillars of the\nhowdah canopies, and then the canopies themselves with their finials, are\nfitted as the beast kneels. A long business, because in India things are\napt to be missing when they are wanted, and though much of this brave\nupholstery fits at the first attempt, there are always, even in the\nbest-regulated elephant stables, little deficiencies to be supplied: and\nmany odd bits of string are used. From the right distance, however, they do\nnot show, and if they should catch the eye, why, \"the screw was lost or\nworn out,\" or, \"it was always so,\" or, \"the smith or the tailor has been\ntold a dozen times about it\"--and a deprecating smile ends the matter.\n\nAt last my lord the elephant is ready, but even now is apt to get into\ntrouble. His natural habit is to fling dust, leaves, and fodder stalks on\nhis back, just as it is the natural inclination of the smartly-dressed\nlittle boy to go straightway and make a mud pie. So he must be looked after\nwhile the mahout puts on a coat and turban, and, armed with his _ankus_ or\ngoad hook, of gilded steel, and a fly flap of yak tail in a silver handle,\nis ready to mount. \"_M\u00e2il, M\u00e2il Barchhi gaj Bahadur!_\" \"Go on, go on, my\nLord the Spear!\" and they join the retinue of spear-men, mace and staff\nbearers, and other attendants waiting for the Raja. And frequently you will\nsee in the midst of the blaze of colour and silver and gold one of the\nmahout's little boys leaning with folded arms and legs crossed at ease\nagainst the fore-leg of the foremost elephant. He is as near nude as may\nbe, but from the complacent grin on the unkempt little monkey's face you\nmight fancy he considered himself the most important figure in the show.\nNor would he be ignominiously sent away, save by some officious underling.\nUrbane old Wazirs would glance at him with an amiable smile, though they\ndid not confess aloud that his was an auspicious intrusion: as of the black\nspot in the splendour of the poppy:--a \"_n\u0103z\u0103r w\u0103ttu_\" or averter of the\nevil eye, the Nemesis always waiting for those who do not acknowledge by\nsome lowly touch of imperfectness that \"the glories of our birth and state\nare shadows, not substantial things.\"\n\nIt is not now thought a great feat to send elephants down to the sea in\nships. They are engirdled with slings as they stand, little dreaming that\npresently they will be snatched up, swung aloft, and lowered deep into a\ndark hold.\n\n[Illustration: WAITING FOR THE RAJA]\n\nSome of the earlier cargoes were not so easily managed. A distinguished\nofficer told me of his troubles with a batch of elephants he took from\nCalcutta to Chittagong, and how they very nearly wrecked a ship. The first\nto be shipped was awkwardly handled, caught the hatchway with his tusks and\ntrunk, slung himself askew, and struggled and fought hard. But at last\nall the forty were stowed, and the steamer went down the Hooghly, anchoring\nfor the night in an oil-still sea off Saugor Point. Now the elephant is the\nmost restless creature alive, always in motion; a fact which native\nobservation has noted in the saying, \"An elephant's shoulder is never\nstill.\" At first they said it was a ground swell that made the ship roll so\nmuch, but soon the Captain came in dire alarm to the officer in charge of\nthe freight. The elephants had found that by swaying to and fro all\ntogether, a rocking motion was produced which seemed to please them\nimmensely. So the great heads and bodies rolled and swung in unison, till\nthe ship, which had no other cargo and rode light, was in imminent danger\nof rolling clean over. The mahouts were hurried down into the hold, and\neach, seated on his beast, made him \"break step\" so to speak. There they\nhad to stay for a long time. An unforeseen difficulty was found in carrying\nfodder along the central avenue. The elephants would allow a laden coolie\nto proceed a little way, and then, with the quiet mischief of their kind,\none would lay him by the heels with his trunk while the others snatched his\nbundles of grass. So they made a gangway over their backs along which the\ncoolies crawled. The worst was when the elephant first shipped died in his\nplace, of vexation, mahouts would say, who believe the creatures only die\nwhen they are so inclined. He was the farthest from the hatchway, and in\nthe awful heat of the Bay of Bengal he had to be taken to pieces and passed\nthrough the line of his brethren, up and over the side in ships' buckets!\nArrived in port there was no wharf, and the animals had to swim and wade a\nmile of water from the anchorage to the shore. The first was slung down,\nhis mahout on his neck, to the water, as it seemed from the deck, a lascar\nclinging to the chain to let go the swivel. He let go too soon, the\nelephant fell with a mighty splash, losing his mahout, while the suddenly\nreleased chain shot the astonished lascar like a bolt from a catapult some\nfifty yards away.\n\n[Illustration: IN ROYAL STATE]\n\nIt is not, however, trials of this kind that make the English transport\nofficer, struggling across creation with mules, oxen, and elephants, gray\nbefore his time, but the number of reports and dockets he has to write.\nThat dead elephant's tusks were a congenial subject to Commissariat clerks,\nand they \"had the honour to inquire\" in many letters.\n\nWe have turned from the elephant as he appears to the Oriental, to the\ncreature as he really is, and it may be interesting to hear the account of\nhim that the paternal Government of India has to give. For that Government\nis itself elephantine in its nature, capable of supporting great weights,\nbut prone also to busy itself in infinite details with restless and\ninquisitive trunk. The proper treatment of the animal in health and disease\nis set forth in a manual by the late Mr. Steel, a high veterinary\nauthority, while the Commissariat and other departments concerned with the\nlarge property of the State in elephants are carefully instructed in their\nmanagement. It is officially stated that--\"all who have had to deal with\nelephants agree that their good qualities cannot be exaggerated; that their\nvices are few and only occur in exceptional animals; that they are neither\ntreacherous nor retentive of injury; and that they are obedient, gentle,\nand patient beyond measure.\" This is higher and more sympathetic praise\nthan is usually tied up in the pink tape of Secretariats, and it is all\ntrue. The next sentence, however, of the official characterisation\ndeclares that in many things the elephant is \"a decidedly stupid animal!\"\nIt was ever hard to find wit and virtue combined, but it may be doubted\nwhether the sentence is quite just. Intelligence among animals is a matter\nof delicate and difficult comparison. Simplicity of character were a better\nword than stupidity. A stupid creature refuses to learn and to obey. The\nelephant under sympathetic treatment always tries to obey, and can be\ntaught to perform acts foreign to all we know of its nature. This entitles\nit to a higher place on the strictly limited scale of animal intelligence\nthan the word \"stupid\" indicates. Its inquisitiveness is confined to\nobjects within elephant range, and its sympathies, like those of all purely\nvegetarian animals which have to spend a large proportion of their time in\neating, are narrow. Of a dog, on the other hand, it was once delightfully\nremarked in the American tongue, \"Don't say that before Snap. Snap don't\nknow he's only a dog; he thinks he's folks!\" No mahout would begin to think\nof his placid self-contained charge along this line. They all seem to\nregard elephant character as a thing apart, and with a respect which a\nstupid animal could not command,--even from mahouts.\n\nAs to the strength of the beast and the best way of turning it to account,\nthere is less room for controversy. On a march, weight-carrying is the work\nan elephant can best perform, for though he can pull strenuously and well,\nhis frame is not suited for long spells of draught work. His chest is\nrelatively small and weak; so sometimes he is made to pull with ropes tied\nto the tusks, and sometimes from his waist, if an elephant can be said to\nhave a waist--but the mighty forehead would, to an amateur, appear to be\nthe best hitching point.\n\nThe normal load for continuous travel of a fair-sized elephant is 800\npounds, so the animal is equal to eight ponies, small mules, or asses; to\nfive stout pack-mules or bullocks, and to three and one-third of a camel.\nUnder such a load the elephant travels at a fair speed, keeping well up\nwith an ordinary army or baggage train, requiring no made road, few guards,\nand occupying less depth in column than other animals. He is invaluable in\njungle country and all roadless regions where heavy loads are to be moved.\nIn Burmah and on the east and south-east frontier elephants are absolutely\nnecessary for military supply. When once a good road is made, the beast is,\nof course, easily beaten by wheeled carriage.\n\nHe shines most as a special Providence when the cattle of a baggage train\nor the horses of a battery are stalled in a bog or struggling helplessly at\na steep place. An elephant's tusks and trunk serve at once as lever,\nscrew-jack, dog-hooks, and crane, quickly setting overturned carts and\ngun-carriages right, lifting them by main force or dragging them in narrow\nwinding defiles where a long team cannot act; while his head, protected by\na pad, is a ram of immense force and superior handiness.\n\nI write \"he\" mechanically, but it ought to be said that in consequence of\nthe liability of the male to occasional fits of ill-temper from functional\ncauses, it has been decreed that only females are to enter Government\nservice, and they should not be less than twenty or more than thirty years\nof age, capable of carrying 1200 pounds for a first-class elephant (eight\nfeet high and over) and 960 pounds for a second-class animal (under eight\nfeet in height), exclusive of gear. No recruit under seven feet should be\nadmitted. Male animals are preferred by Native Princes on account of their\nlarger size and prouder bearing, and among about two thousand elephants\nowned by the British Government a few males are kept for State and parade\npurposes. An elephant at twenty-five years of age may be compared to a\nhuman being of eighteen. He attains his full strength and vigour at about\nthirty-five, and has been known to live a hundred and twenty years.\n\n[Illustration: ELEPHANT PILING TIMBER (BURMAH)]\n\nA born forester, it is in jungle-work that the labouring elephant outside\nGovernment service is seen at his best. The tea-planters of Assam and\nCeylon find him useful in forest clearing and as a pack animal. They even\nyoke him to the plough. He is the leading hand in the teak trade of\nBurmah,--unrivalled in the heavy toil of the timber-yard, where he piles\nlogs with wonderful neatness and quickness. Small timbers are carried on\nthe tusks, clipped over and held fast by the trunk. A log with a thick butt\nis seized with judicious appreciation of balance, while long and heavy\nbaulks are levered and pushed into place.\n\n[Illustration: ELEPHANT LIFTING TEAK LOGS (BURMAH)]\n\nAs to its keep, the elephant is a chargeable beast; costing from \u00a34 to \u00a38 a\nmonth when rations of rice or wheaten flour cakes are given, as they should\nbe, with fodder-stalks and leaves of various kinds. Rum, brandy, or arrack,\nmixed with ginger, cloves, pepper, and treacle, and made into a paste with\nflour, provide the elephant with a sort of tipsy-cake that cheers and\ncomforts him when suffering from fatigue or cold. In the matter of food and\nstimulants, however, mahouts have no conscience, and steal without a qualm.\nAges of slack-handed usage have settled that the servant of the elephant\nand three generations of his family shall live on the beast he is paid to\ncherish. Allowances are given for flour, fire-wood, oil, and spices, but\nthe elephant only gets a share in them, and not always that. So the worst\nailment he has to face is semi-starvation, the lot of most elephants in\ncaptivity. The beast is in truth a noble anachronism, belonging to a young\nworld time of denser foliage than this dried-up age which packs hay in\ntrusses and treasures ensilage in pits. But the thievish mahout is\nresponsible for the worst of his belly-pinch. Yet elephant men are usually\nspoken of as models of devotion to their beasts. \"They love 'em, sir,\" said\nan English officer to me once. But that does not prevent their showing an\nindifference to their comfort, characteristic of all Orientals, whose talk\noften drips with sentiment, while their practice is of dry brutality. The\nacknowledged authorities on the subject, Mr. Sanderson and the late Mr. J.\nH. Steel, agree that mahouts invariably make the animals' comfort\nsubservient to their own. Even the best of them will seldom take the\ntrouble to put their beasts under the shadow of a tree at mid-day. They\nalso have the cruel Indian trick of securing the animals fore and aft in\nthe most irksome manner possible. A rope or chain fastened to one foot and\nto a peg in the ground is sufficient restraint for most elephants, and\nallows them to turn to and from the sun and wind as they find agreeable.\nMahouts think nothing of securing an animal so that one side is exposed day\nand night to wind or rain. The practice of tight tying up is particularly\nrepugnant to those who have a sympathetic knowledge of the restless,\nswaying, Johnsonian habit rooted in the beast's nature. The native servant\nhimself keenly appreciates his liberty and is the most elusive creature\nalive, perpetually slinking from his duty into the jungles of the bazar.\nBut when he ruleth he is a terrible despot.\n\nOutside India it is believed that elephants are dying out of the land. The\nexample of America, where the men and creatures natural to the soil have\nbeen exterminated to make room for a too triumphant civilisation, has\ntaught the world a lesson of anxiety. But animal lovers may rest content,\nfor the elephants of India, like the people, are increasing in numbers.\nThey are carefully protected in their natural haunts, whence English\nofficers of experience draw supplies for use with as much system and\nregularity as sheep are drafted from the hillside flock. The details of the\nGovernment kheddah or capturing arrangements are full of interest,--sport\nin its finest sense; nor is it easy to say whether the skill in woodcraft\nof the English directors, or the courage, endurance, and patience of the\nnatives employed, are most admirable. Like a strong ass between two\nburdens, the British Government has been beaten with many staves, and also\nwith fools' truncheons of pantomime paper, but, at least, it has tried to\nhusband the resources of the country.\n\nThe thoughtful Germans are said to meditate the re-capture and\ndomestication in their new Equatorial realm of the African elephant, free\nsince the days of Hannibal. It is to be hoped this is true, for there is\nnaught sillier under the sun than the slaughter which has hitherto been all\nthat civilisation had to bestow on these blameless Ethiopians.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nOF CAMELS\n\n    \"When spring-time flushes the desert grass,\n    Our Kafilas wind through the Khyber pass.\n    Lean are the camels but fat the frails,\n    Light are the purses but heavy the bales,\n    As the snow-bound trade of the North comes down\n    To the market-square of Peshawar town.\n\n    \"In a turquoise twilight crisp and chill,\n    A Kafila camped at the foot of the hill.\n    Then blue smoke haze of the cooking rose,\n    And tent-peg answered to hammer nose;\n    And the picketed ponies, shag and wild,\n    Strained at their ropes as the feed was piled;\n    And the bubbling camels beside the load\n    Sprawled for a furlong adown the road;\n    And the Persian pussy-cats, brought for sale,\n    Spat at the dogs from the camel-bale.\"\n\n                _The ballad of the King's jest._--R. K.\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nWhile some mahouts hint vaguely that the elephant came to India from the\nfarther East, it is an accepted belief that the camel came from the West,\n_i.e._ from Arabia. No account is taken of the herds of wild camels seen on\nthe high table-lands of Central Asia. So the saying has it, \"The camel let\nloose, goes westward,\" or \"The camel is a good Mussulman, for when free,\nhe runs towards Mecca.\" In default of proof that the beast really follows\nthe setting sun, it may be suspected that Oriental fancy, always strong,\nhas more play than Oriental observation, which is often weak. For the camel\nis a peculiarly Muhammadan creature both in his life of to-day and in his\nwonderful origin. It was on his back that the body of Shah Ali Shah was\nlaid after death, and he was sent into the wilderness till the Angel\nGabriel met him and, taking the rope, led him no man knows whither. Before\nthat ghostly funeral the camel resembled a horse, but the Angel gave him a\nhump like the mountain into which he disappeared, and feet to spread on the\nyielding sand, with other anatomical peculiarities, all duly enumerated by\ngood Mussulmans. This story is also told of Moses, the friend of God, or\nthe converser with God, the place of whose sepulchre no man knoweth unto\nthis day. Probably the saying has its origin in the propensity of the\nstupid camel to stray and lose itself, for it has none of the \"homing\"\nfaculty so strongly developed in the horse. People who religiously face\nwestward several times a day to pray naturally get an occidental twist in\ntheir minds. Nay, there are those who maintain that all the world has this\ntrick, and that, like Wordsworth's friends, we still go \"stepping\nwestward.\" South Australia has not yet discovered a Mecca twist in the\nthousands of camels it now owns.\n\nThe Prophet himself was a camel driver or _Serw\u00e1n_, and always cherished\nthe liking of a true Arab for the beast of which he said, \"Speak ill\nneither of the camel nor of the wind; the camel is a benefit to man and the\nwind is an emanation of the Spirit of God.\" When he was married to Kadijah,\ntwo young camels were slain for the wedding feast.\n\nBut Indian popular observation lacks the Arab keenness, nor is the beast so\nimportant and highly thought of as in Arabia. There is no strong insight in\ncalling the long shafts of the camel's limbs crooked, as in the angry\nsaying to a shifty ne'er-do-well, \"O camel, hast thou _one_ straight bone\nin thy body?\" The pride of a big man is rebuked by the saying, \"The camel\nthought he was the biggest thing in the world till he came under the\nmountain.\" Of a very tall man who, in India, is often a simpleton, they\nsay, \"Tall as a camel, but silly as an ass,\" and of an unwilling, grumbling\nservant, \"He snarls like a camel when you load him.\" The bite of a camel is\nvery severe and sometimes poisonous, so the saying goes, \"God preserve us\nfrom the nip of a camel and the snap of a dog.\" Of a notoriously unlucky\nman they say, \"Even if he were perched on a camel a dog would jump up and\nbite him.\" The Kirgiz have a pious expansion of this saying: \"Whom the\nfates bless with a good son may light a bonfire; but the father cursed with\na bad son will be devoured by dogs, though he be mounted on the back of a\ncamel.\" We express the completeness of ill-luck by saying, \"The bread never\nfalls but on its buttered side.\" The Kirgiz say, \"One never falls but from\na _n\u00e1r_\"--the large-sized Bokhariot camel. A common saying similar to our\n\"waiting to see which way the cat jumps\" is based on a trivial story. A\npotter and a greengrocer hired a camel between them. The camel reached\nround with his long neck and ate some of the cabbages on the greengrocer's\nside, whereupon the potter jeered. \"Wait and see which side he sits down\nupon,\" said the greengrocer. The camel sat down on the potter's side and\nsmashed his wares. \u00c6sop's frog tried to swell himself as big as the ox,\nbut in India they say of pretentious little people, \"When the camels were\nbranded, the frog also held up his leg,\" as who should say, \"brand me too.\"\n\"The goat-keeper went to buy a camel and wanted to feel its ears\" (a point\nof handling which no judicious goat-buyer omits) is a saying which has\nseveral applications in India; but in Britain also we may see critics\na-tiptoe, reaching up with tiny and inapt canons of judgment to things they\ndo not understand.\n\nThe decorative value of the camel cannot be appreciated by those who have\nonly seen one or two at a time. He was made for a sequence, as beads are\nmade for stringing. On an Indian horizon a long drove of camels, tied head\nto tail, adorns the landscape with a festooned frieze of wonderful symmetry\nand picturesqueness. Five hundred camels go to a mile.[3] If I had a very\nlong and lofty hall to decorate I should pray the architect to let me loop\nit round with camels, with here and there a Biloch driver, as the frieze\nturned a corner or was interrupted by a bracket or girder. For a quaint and\nalmost comic spectacle, a bivouac of a camel Kafila or caravan on the march\nis not easily surpassed. The beasts are seated four or five on each side of\na sheet or table-cloth on which their fodder is placed. Camels are as\nsymmetrically constructed as gun-carriages, and their hind-legs fold up\nlike two-foot-rules. They rest in great part on a pedestal behind the chest\nwith which Nature has furnished them, and sit close together in\nhigh-elbowed state with an indescribable air of primness and propriety.\nWith, as often happens, a driver supping at each end of this table in the\nwilderness, the whole arrangement has an absurdly formal and well-regulated\nair, suggesting a tea-party of elderly maiden ladies, as the long necks\ncurve and bridle and the mincing mouths move busily.\n\n[Footnote 3: This is the present official estimate, allowing a little over\n10 feet 6 inches per camel. Sir Charles Napier, however, writing of his\nfirst day's march from Rori to Ima\u00edn Ghur in the Sindh desert, allows 15\nfeet to each animal: \"Oh! the baggage! the baggage! it is enough to drive\none mad. We have 1500 camels with their confounded long necks, each\noccupying 15 feet! Fancy these long devils in a defile; four miles and a\nquarter of them!\"]\n\nThe deliberate movement of the beasts under their burdens is impressive and\nnot without a touch of scornful majesty. Only an Oriental, one would think,\ncould accommodate himself to that unhasting cadence of step. Perhaps the\nreported existence of wild camels in Arizona territory is a fabulous or\njocular illustration of American character. It is said they were imported\ninto the United States to serve as pack animals, but nobody foresaw that\nthe nervous, electric American was the last man alive to pace placidly at\nthe end of a camel's nose-rope. He naturally dropped it in disgust;--and\nnow there are wild camels in Arizona. If this story is not true, it ought\nto be.\n\n[Illustration: IN A SERAI (REST-HOUSE)]\n\n[Illustration: RAJPUT CAMEL-RIDER'S BELT]\n\nThe truth about the camel's character has often been debated. He is\nwonderful, and, in his own way, beautiful to look at, and his patience,\nstrength, speed, and endurance are beyond all praise. The camel-riders of\nRajputana and Central India, mounted on animals of a swift breed, cover\nalmost incredible distances at high speed, finding it necessary to protect\nthemselves against the racking motion by broad leathern belts tightly\nbuckled, which are often covered with velvet and prettily broidered in\nsilk. Even they, who know the beast at his best, never pretend to like\ntheir mounts, as one likes a horse. So useful a beast is estimable, but the\nmost indulgent observation fails to find a ground for affection. Europeans,\nat all events, who have to do with camels seem to think it were as easy to\nlavish one's love on a luggage van. He is a morose, discontented, grumbling\nbrute, a servant of man, it is true, as is the water that turns a\nmill-wheel, the fire that boils a kettle, or the steam that stirs the\npiston of a cylinder. He does not come to a call like other beasts, but has\nto be fetched and driven from browsing. There are but few words made for\nhis private ear such as belong to horses, dogs, and oxen. An elephant has a\nseparate word of command for sitting down with front legs, with hind legs,\nor with all together, and he moves at a word. A camel has but one, and that\nmust be underlined with a tug at his nose-rope ere he will stoop. But he\nhas a large share in that great public property of curses whose loss would\nenrich the world.\n\nThe camel has so little sense, one wonders he is credited with malevolence,\nbut so it is, and there is sound appreciation of his vindictiveness in a\nphrase in use for bearing malice, equivalent to \"camel-tempered,\" and of\nhis aimless wandering in another addressed to an idle man, \"Why are you\nloafing round like a loose camel?\"\n\n\"Camel colour\" is a common word among weavers, embroiderers, and the like;\nbut it is not a good colour name, because camels vary much in tint. Other\nnames of this end of the colour scale are better, as \"_bad\u00e1mi_\" or almond;\n\"mouse colour\"; _kh\u00e2ki_, or _khara_, catechu tinted. An ostrich is a\ncamel-bird, and so says Western science,--_struthio camelus_,--and a\ngiraffe a camel-cow; no notice apparently being taken of the creature's\nspots.\n\nThe camel's grumble has led the British soldier to christen him \"a\nhumming-bird.\" \"Commissariat scent-bottle\" has also been heard, and when in\ncamp with camels, you see more in these schoolboy absurdities than would\nstrike a stranger. The relations of the British soldier with the camel,\nhowever, have been so vividly and truly put in my son's barrack-room\nballad, \"Oonts!\" (camels), that I make no apology for quoting it at\nlength,--premising that Mr. Thomas Atkins, who takes his own way with\nOriental languages, invariably shortens long vowels, and makes _oont_ rhyme\nwith grunt.\n\nOONTS!\n\n(NORTHERN INDIA TRANSPORT TRAIN)\n\n    What makes the soldier's 'eart to penk, what makes 'im to perspire?\n    It isn't standin' up to charge or lyin' down to fire;\n    But it's everlastin' waitin' on a everlastin' road\n    For the commissariat camel and 'is commissariat load.\n          O the oont, O the oont, O the commissariat oont!\n          With 'is silly neck a bobbin' like a basket full o' snakes,\n          We packs 'im like a idol, an' you ought to hear 'im grunt,\n          An' when we gets 'im loaded up, 'is bless\u00e9d girth-rope breaks.\n\n    What makes the rearguard swear so 'ard when night is drorin' in,\n    An' every native follower is shiverin' for 'is skin?\n    It ain't the chance o' bein' rushed by Paythans from the 'ills,\n    It's the commissariat camel puttin' on 'is bless\u00e9d frills.\n          O the oont, O the oont, O the hairy, scary oont!\n          A trippin' over tent-ropes when we've got the night alarm,\n          We socks 'im with a stretcher-pole an' 'eads 'im off in front,\n          And when we've saved 'is bloomin' life, he chaws our bloomin'\n              arm.\n\n    The 'orse 'e knows above a bit, the bullock's but a fool,\n    The elephant's a gentleman, the baggage mule's a mule;\n    But the commissariat cam-u-el, when all is said and done,\n    'E's a devil an' a ostrich an' a orphan child in one.\n          O the oont, O the oont, O the Gawd forsaken oont!\n          The 'umpy lumpy 'ummin'-bird a singin' where 'e lies,\n          'E's blocked the 'ole division from the rearguard to the front,\n          An' when we gets 'im up again--the beggar goes an' dies!\n\n    'E'll gall an' chafe an' lame an' fight--'e smells most awful vile,\n    'E'll lose 'isself for ever if you let 'im stray a mile;\n    'E's game to graze the 'ole day long an' 'owl the 'ole night through,\n    And when 'e comes to greasy ground 'e splits 'isself in two.\n          O the oont, O the oont, O the floppin' droppin' oont!\n          When 'is long legs gives from under, an' 'is meltin' eye is dim,\n          The tribes is up be'ind us an' the tribes is out in front,\n          It ain't no jam for Tommy, but it's kites and crows for 'im.\n\n    So when the cruel march is done, an' when the roads is blind,\n    An' when we sees the camp in front an' 'ears the shots be'ind,\n    O then we strips 'is saddle off, an' all 'is woes is past:\n    'E thinks on us that used 'im so, an' gets revenge at last!\n          O the oont, O the oont, O the floatin' bloatin' oont!\n          The late lamented camel in the water-cut he lies.\n          We keeps a mile be'ind 'im an' we keeps a mile in front,\n          But 'e gets into the drinkin' casks, an' then, of course,\n              we dies.\n\nThrough the humorous lilt of these lines you may perceive many facts,\nespecially the mortality among camels in our Afghan campaigns. In that of\n1878-1879, about 50,000 camels were paid for by the British Government. But\nthis was in no wise the fault of the brutal Briton, for the beasts were\ndeliberately sacrificed by their native owners, who were guaranteed\ncompensation for their loss. It was easier to allow the camel to die than\nto toil after him over a difficult country. It is now laid down as an axiom\nof the Transport service that animals required to proceed beyond the bases,\nand to act with troops in the field, should be the property of the\nGovernment, while the transport of supplies within the bases should be\nmainly hired. But on the next pinch the chances are that the axiom will be\ndisregarded. A history of the military services of the camel would be the\nhistory of Eastern wars. He has served and served well both as baggage cart\nand troop-horse, and whether from stupidity or courage is as stolid and\nunmoved under attack as were the British infantry squares at Waterloo.\nHerodotus, Pliny, Livy, Diodorus, and Xenophon are quoted by Major Burn of\nthe Intelligence Branch in his excellent official manual on Transport and\nCamel Corps. In modern campaigns camel corps were organised by Napoleon in\nEgypt, Sir Charles Napier in Sindh, by Carbuccia in Algeria, and during the\nIndian Mutiny the \"Ninety-twa\" Highlanders had a camel corps of 150 native\ndrivers, and 155 well-bred camels on which sat 150 kilted Highlanders. Sir\nCharles Napier's Sindh camel corps seems to have been the most complete in\ndesign and equipment, and in every way worthy of that great soldier's\ngenius. The principle on which it was based is the plainest of all the\nplain truths ignored by our system--that the transport is the most vital\npart of military matters, and should be organised with just as much care as\na regiment. In an expedition for the capture of a robber chief in Sindh,\nSir Charles Napier's camel corps travelled 70 miles during the night,\ncaptured the thief, and returned, thus accomplishing 140 miles in\ntwenty-four hours. Feats of this kind, of course, were not continuous, and\ntheir bringing-off was due to the care with which the rest and upkeep of\nthe animals were maintained. This splendid property organised in 1845 was\nallowed to die down, and no such efficient organisation existed in\nsubsequent campaigns, where money, hastily spilled like water, purchased\ndiscomfort and sickness for the troops, and that tardy and confused\nmovement of his masses which breaks the heart of an anxious general.\n\nAs a rule, the management of camels should be left to Orientals, though the\nFrench say their men learned to imitate the Arab camel cries. Our Thomas\nAtkins is a poor ventriloquist, ill at outland tongues. Like his officers,\ntoo, he cherishes the ancient illusion, filtered down from book to book,\nabout the extra water-tank stomach of the camel, and his power of going\nwithout water. As a plain physiological fact, the camel has no such\nchamber, his digestive arrangements are like those of the ox, but simpler,\napproaching the horse character; and, if he goes without water, it is only\nbecause he cannot get it. There are pouches in his stomach, which\nfrequently after death are found to contain fluid; but that they are\nreservoirs pure and simple is doubtful, says Mr. J. H. Steel in his _Manual\nof the Camel_. \"It is very certain that the parched traveller who cuts open\nhis dying camel to obtain its water store will thus procure only a very\nlittle fluid of a temperature of about 90\u00b0 Fahr., of a mawkish, sub-acid\nflavour and an unpleasant odour.\" He should be watered twice a day in the\nhot weather, and once in the cool season. It is true, of course, that he\nhas been known to go dry for seven or eight days, but it was labour and\nsorrow to him. Also, although he can travel twenty miles a day, carrying\n360 lbs. weight, he is capable of fatigue as other beasts are, and once out\nof condition does not regain his strength in less than six months. And in\nspite of his unfriendly and unsympathetic disposition, it is a fact that,\nlike the rest of God's creatures, he is more tractable under kind treatment\nthat when bullied and roughly handled. Of a man we sometimes say \"he has an\nunfortunate manner,\" nor do we always mean it, for such a manner often\nshows the aggressive selfishness and ill-temper that command fortune and\nrespect. The supercilious expression framed in the camel's lips, which\ndisclose with savage threat the long upper teeth, denied by nature to other\nruminants, and his curiously indifferent air, are real misfortunes to him.\nWe bow respectfully to the camel-tempered man of private life, but it is\nhard to be civil to a beast whose face is a sculptured sneer.\n\nThe long-shanked, cushion-footed creature is especially good at fording\nrivers where the bottom is sandy. A drove going across will sometimes make\na ford practicable for horses, acting like a roller on a loose road, but a\nfew yards of greasy clay will throw many a camel. A fair slope is not much\nof an obstacle, but a steep hill of slippery wet clay, up which a mule goes\ngaily, is a sad business for the camel. Nature has made his shoulder,\nchest, and fore-legs strong, but the attachments of the hind limbs are weak\nand ill-considered. So the beast is liable to dislocations of the hip in\nclimbing, or, as the British soldier says, \"he splits 'isself up.\" Some\nAfghan short-legged breeds are good climbers, but of most the Arab saying\nholds good: \"Which is best for you, O camel, to go up hill or down? May\nGod's curse rest on both wherever met, quoth the camel.\" None the less, at\nthis moment long strings are pacing with heavy burdens up and down the hill\nroads to Kashmir, Simla, and K\u00e1bul.\n\n[Illustration: RAJPUT CAMEL GUNS]\n\nCamels, like mules, can be used to carry field-pieces, the equipment of a\ngun being divided among three animals. The indigenous practice was to make\nthe beast himself a gun-carriage, bearing a Zamb\u016brah (wasp), a piece like\nour old falconet or like the heavy swivel muskets sometimes seen in English\narmouries, intended for the tops of a ship or the stern sheets of a boat.\nThe saddle also carries a rider who holds the heavy wooden stock and fires\nthe gun with a slow match. The lingering nature of this arrangement must in\naction have lent a lively interest to the evolutions of a gun camel, for\nthere is always the chance that just at the critical moment the beast may\nsling round and point the gun at its friends. Another camel gun is a sort\nof _mitrailleuse_, carrying twenty-one barrels in a framework of\niron-clamped wood. Both these contrivances are still in as much use as the\nbrooding pax Britannica allows in Rajputana, especially at Oodeypore and\nJeypore, and make a great figure in State processions when salutes are\nfired. The Sikhs had a great number of camel guns of the Zamb\u016brah type, and\nat the battle of Sobraon it is said that over 2000 were captured. Some of\nthese still survive in the armoury at Fort Lahore.\n\nBesides his services as a slow-pacing pack animal and as a steed capable of\ncovering long distances at a high speed, the camel has many uses unnoticed\nby Europeans. He is blindfolded in Sindh and made to go a mill-round,\ngrinding flour or oil seeds; working sometimes in such a confined space,\none wonders how they got the huge beast in, or how they will get him out\nagain. He takes the place of the ox at the plough and the well, and acts as\nwater-carrier in parts of Rajputana, on the edges of the Indian desert and\nin the camel districts of the Punjab. On the Grand Trunk road to Delhi are\nwonderful double-storied wagons drawn by camels. These old-world\ncontrivances go at the rate of about three miles per hour, and are like\nnothing so much as the cage wagons of travelling menageries. They are in\neffect iron cages intended originally as a protection against robbery. The\npassengers are huddled together and seem to sleep most of the time, and, to\ndo him justice, so does the driver. The most picturesque \"property\" of the\nPunjab Government house is a huge _char \u00e0 banc_, to which is harnessed a\nteam of four or six fine camels with leopard skin housings and gaily\nattired riders. The camel van will probably be run off the road by the\nrailway, but modified versions of it must for long survive in the desert\nregions off the line of rail.\n\nIt ought to be unnecessary to say that while one camel is like another to\nan untrained European eye, there are in India, as in Arabia, carefully\nclassified breeds, though they are not distinctively branded with caste\nmarks, as is the case in the West. One listens to this lore with respect,\nbut it is not easily remembered, nor is it of much importance, save to the\ncamel owner or the Government officer sent forth at tuck of drum to buy or\nhire all the good camels he can lay hands on. By common consent the very\nbest of the animals of the plain are considered to be those of Bikanir and\nJessulmir, Rajput States on the edge of the great Indian desert, where the\nhot dry air suits the austere Arab constitution of the beast. But it has a\nwider range of variety than is generally thought, each suited to its\n_habitat_, until in the hills the slender, high-caste form becomes square,\nsturdy, and thickly covered with a coarse, cold-resisting pelage. The\ntwo-humped Bactrian camel is prepared by nature to withstand a cold almost\nas keen and piercing as that the reindeer feels, and yet will breed with\nthe one-humped camel of the burning plain. Signor Lombardini, an authority\non cameline anatomy, finds a rudimentary second hump in the ordinary\none-humped camel.\n\nAfter the he-goat, a whole camel seems a large offering for the most pious\nperson to make, but he still occasionally serves as a sacrifice. Colonel\nTod wrote that the Great Mogul used to slay a camel with his own hand on\nthe new year festival, and the flesh was eaten by the court favourites. He\nis certainly eaten, and they say camel in good condition much resembles\nbeef. After his death his bones are valuable, being whiter and more dense\nthan most other bones, and a fair substitute for ivory. But they are\nneglected except by the lac-turners of Dera Ismail Khan, who use them for\nthe studs and ornaments with which they adorn their ware. Possibly some\ncamel bones are picked by English turners and button-makers out of the\nIndian bones now imported. It may not be generally known that the attention\nof traders has been recently drawn to the cattle remains that lie near\nIndian villages. Each hamlet has its Golgotha, where worn-out animals are\nleft to die. Hitherto, only the vulture, the crow, and the jackal have\nvisited these spots, after the leather-dresser has taken the skin of the\nlast comer. But though it never occurred to the Oriental that they could be\nof any use, Western science, like the giant in the child's tale, grinds\nbones to make bread. So the village bone-heaps are swept up and shipped to\nEurope. Perhaps a day may come when the people, awaking to their value,\nwill cry out that they have been robbed. The bone heaps will certainly be\nmissed by the scientific Indian agriculturists of the future, but there is\nno way of keeping them in the country. Learned authorities on economic\nquestions say it is a mistake to use customs duties with any beneficent\nintention, just as literary critics say it is bad art to write a story with\na purpose, and both have some right on their side. Otherwise, in the\ninterests of India, one would like to impose a heavy export duty on wild\nbird skins, feathers, and bones, and a crushing import duty on aniline dyes\nand Members of Parliament.\n\n[Illustration: THE LEADING CAMEL OF A KAFILA (AFGHANISTAN)]\n\nCamel trappings are not so gaudy in India as in Egypt or Morocco, where\nriding animals are bedizened in scarlet and yellow. They are in a different\nkey of colour, belonging to a school of pastoral ornament in\nsoberly-coloured wools, beads, and small white shells, which appears to\nbegin (or end) in the Balkans and stretches eastward through Central Asia\ninto India, especially among the Biloch and other camel folk on our\nNorth-West frontier. Camel housings may be the beginning of the nomad\nindustry of carpet weaving. It is perhaps not too fanciful to trace on the\nworsted neckband the original unit or starting-point of the carpets and\n\"saddle-bags\" which have given lessons to English upholsterers. There is\nnot much room for variety in a narrow fillet with only black, brown, and\ndingy white as a colour scheme, but you may watch a long Kafila go\ncurtseying past and find no two neck-bands quite alike in the arrangement\nof zig-zags, diamonds, bars, and squares. These bands, with more richly\ncoloured rugs and saddle-bags, and the homely russet splendours of worsted\ncords, tassels, shells, and beads, with which the leading camel is adorned,\nare wrought by women. Like more women's work, it is done at intervals. The\nEnglish lady complains that her Turkoman or Biloch rug lies unevenly on her\nparquet floor, and does not reflect that the perverse \"buckling\" marks the\ntimes when camp was shifted to follow the pasturing flocks, and the loom\nwith its unfinished carpet was rolled up to be staked anew with Oriental\ncarelessness as to straightness. \"Saddle-bags,\" said a London tradesman to\nme, \"have had their day, they've got common.\" This sounded sadly, but they\nwill not cease to be for all that.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nOF DOGS, FOXES, AND JACKALS\n\n    \"Hev a dog, Miss!--they're better friends nor any Christian.\"\n\n                                  GEORGE ELIOT, _The Mill on the Floss_.\n\n[Illustration: A SUBALTERN'S DOG-BOY]\n\n\nThat the dog has served for ages throughout the East as a byword of\nloathing and contempt is of itself no hanging matter so far as the real\ncharacter of the animal is concerned, and need not surprise or shock the\nEnglish dog-lover. For, like the sacred writings of the Hindus and\nMuhammadans, our own Holy Bible, from which we profess to take our rules of\nlife, contains the same low estimate and has no hint of appreciation of\ncanine character, no recognition of his services to man, no word of\ncompassion for his fate. Yet Christians have learned and perfected the lore\nknown to the Assyrian and the Greek of the varieties and qualities of dogs,\nand, following them rather than the ancient Hebrew, have come to love and\ncherish the unclean animal. The wonder is that the Oriental has stuck so\nservilely to the skirts of his Scripture and taken so much to heart the\nbelated nonsense that Moslem and Hindu authorities have uttered in\ndisparagement of one of the best of God's creatures. He ought to have found\nout for himself that the figurative expressions of orators, poets, and\nlaw-givers have but a local and temporary significance; but if you look\nclosely you will find that for centuries he has most faithfully tried to\ntake all that he has been officially taught _au pied de la lettre_, and has\ncrystallised the metaphors of poetry and the rhetorical flights of\nlaw-givers into canons of conduct. The enormous difficulty of this task\nhas, of course, driven both Hindu and Moslem to much hypocrisy and\ncompromise, but on the whole their faith is greater than anything we know\nof in the West.\n\nThe official condemnation of the dog by Muhammadans, and the formal terms\nin which he is out-casted by Hindus, are too monstrous and sweeping to hold\ngood, when one considers the friendly nature of the beast and the real\nclaim he has on the gratitude of mankind. But there are not many examples\nof human sympathy passing the narrow bounds of a cruel law. The ingenious\nMr. Pope has a much-quoted passage about the poor Indian whose untutored\nmind leads him to hope that when admitted to the equal sky of heaven his\nfaithful dog may bear him company. But ages before Mr. Pope lisped in\nnumbers, and indeed before America was discovered, Asiatic poetry had\ncreated the hero Yudhishtira, who refused to enter heaven at all unless his\ndog might accompany him. Modern India, however, has for the most part\nforgotten Yudhishtira, and in these days the only dog admitted to the\ncompany of the Gods is a cur that serves as the vehicle or _v\u00e2han_ of\nBhairon, now one of the most popular of Hindu divinities. This deity bears\na bottle of strong drink, in defiance of those shallow folk who claim all\nHindus as total abstainers and Bands of Hope, and a staff which is vulgarly\nreckoned to be the _Kotw\u0101l_ or town magistrate of Benares. His semblance is\nthat of a black or dark blue man, whose raiment is a cloth round his loins\nand a serpent round his neck; his dog is a black tyke of low degree, nor\ndoes the canine race appear to gain in popular esteem from his association\nwith the God, unless the very vulgar saying: \"If all the dogs go on\npilgrimage to Benares, who will be left to lick the dishes clean?\" is an\nobscure reference to his sacred character.\n\nMuhammadans have granted in popular lore a place in Paradise to Khetmir,\nthe dog of the seven sleepers, who has been suspected of being the same\nanimal as Yudhishtira's hound by some scholars. But they follow the Bible\nin speaking of him in injurious terms as an expression for disgust and\nloathing, unclean by immemorial prescription. It is written that the angels\nof God will not cross the threshold of a house whereon there is even a hair\nof a dog. If a dog is known to have drunk out of a vessel, it must be\nwashed in seven waters. (A Muhammadan cure for hydrophobia is to look down\nseven wells.) Neither by Hindu nor Muhammadan writer is ever a kindly word\nsaid in appreciation of the admirable sides of canine character. When he\nhas a fair chance he is as faithful and zealous in service in India as\nelsewhere, but no one notices him. \"A dog's death\" is an Indian as well as\na European phrase for a miserable ending, and it has a peculiar force in\nIndia; an idle babbler is said to have eaten a dog's brains, a hasty\nmovement is a dog's jump, the hungry stomach is spoken of as a dog that\nmust be quieted, and it is an ancient saying that though you imprisoned a\ndog's tail for a dozen years in a bamboo tube, it would still be crooked.\nThat it would probably be perfectly straight after such a process is an\nirrelevant physiological detail unworthy the attention of a poet or a\nproverbial philosopher. \"What business has a dog in a mosque?\" is a\nscornful snub to an intrusive person of low degree. The sons-in-law and\nother relatives of wealthy, high-caste Hindus who, under the patriarchal\nscheme of domestic life, live with their wives' families, are familiarly\ndescribed in quite a long series of enumeration as household dogs. A\nsponger or parasite is a _tab\u00e1qi k\u016btta_, a dish (licking) dog. And the\nPersian monosyllable for dog, \"_S\u0103g_,\" is often in a native mouth a more\nsavage term of contempt than \"_S\u016bar_,\" pig.\n\nA saying goes, \"do not travel in the evening, the Raja and the dog are\nasleep in the morning\"--and in the lawless days but lately past there was\nsense in the counsel. Of oppressive native subordinates they say: \"Why\nshould not a dog bite a defenceless poor man?\" To an abusive underling:\n\"Cur! it is not your mouth but your master's that barks.\" The messenger\nwears a scarf and brass badge, and is often a jack-in-office, so he is\nfamiliarly spoken of as a dog with a collar on. Another saying is based on\nan incident: \"You ate the dawn meal, so you must fast.\" A Muhammadan during\nthe Ramaz\u0101n fast found that a dog had eaten the meal which may be lawfully\ntaken before sunrise, and with these words he locked the creature up, and,\nconceiving himself released from obligation, he breakfasted and dined as\nusual. We say \"Love me, love my dog\"; the Oriental admits that if you are\ndevoted heart and soul to a person, you may even take her dog into favour:\n\"Even Leila's dog is dear to Majn\u016bn.\" This languishing hero is the accepted\ntype of a devoted lover. The dog plays no great part in the story, and I\nsuspect it is in respect of the proverb that a dog is generally introduced\nby native draughtsmen into the popular bazaar pictures representing these\npersonages. The ordinance in the Code of Menu that certain out-caste tribes\nshould possess no animals but dogs and asses has been a millstone round the\nnecks of these admirable and most useful animals.\n\n[Illustration: OUTCASTES (A BEGGING LEPER AND PARIAH DOGS)]\n\nWe say that one may as well hang a dog as give him a bad name, thereby\nadmitting the possibility of a good one. But no such allowance seems to\nhave been made for the Indian pariah dog. He has always been on the\ndownhill slope of popular contempt, and it will be long before he can hope\nto rise. The noble potentialities of his character are ignored, he is\ndiscouraged by the distance at which he is kept, for he is never allowed\nto enter a house, nor to consort on intimate terms with man, the inventor\nof morals. Perhaps it is not too fantastical to say that when compared with\nthe English dog the poor Indian outcast is a pagan, a creature without\nfaith, or at least without that soul-saving reverence for authority which\nennobles character. Lord Bacon says that the master of a properly trained\ndog is the divinity of the animal who waits upon his will. The Indian\npariah does not know the joy of adoration; he has no master, and is an\natheist in spite of himself. Tainted with the worst of the philosophy to\nwhich he gave his name some centuries ago in Greece, he reveals more of the\ncurrish side of canine character than English dogs and dog lovers are aware\nof. He uncovers more of his teeth when he snarls--and he often snarls--than\nthe civilised dog; he slinks off with inverted tail at the mere hint of a\nblow or a caress, and his shrill bark echoes the long note of the great\ndog-father, the wolf, and the poor cousin the jackal. In a fight he does\nnot abandon himself to the delight of battle with the stern joy of the\nEnglish dog, but calculates odds and backs down with an ignoble care for\nhis skin. In short, he is a _lendi_, a cur, a coward. We English call him a\npariah, but this word, belonging to a low, yet by no means degraded class\nof people in Madras, is never heard on native lips as applied to a dog, any\nmore than our other word \"_pie_.\" Like other words, both will be learned\nfrom us and incorporated in that wonderful pudding-stone conglomerate of\nlanguage known as Urdu.\n\nThe pie-dog, pariah, or street dog, is usually rufous yellow, but all known\ndog tints occur, for creole colours now diversify the tawny aboriginal\nrace. Chronic hunger is the central fact of his life, which is one long\nsearch for food, and his pastime is another long search for fleas. As a\nrule he owns himself, but he sometimes selects a master and always belongs\nto a place. \"Why are you so lean, dog? I have to gather my dinner from nine\nhouses.\"\n\nHe is supposed to be valuable as a scavenger, and it is certain that he\nmostly dines in the night, resembling in this respect his timid cousin the\njackal, who usually slinks aside from offal heap or dead carcass as he\napproaches. The jackal is accused of ghoulish propensities, favoured by the\nshallow graves dug for their kindred by Muhammadans, but the street dog, if\nstrict truth were told, is almost as great a sinner. He is reported on good\nauthority to frequent the burying-places where Hindus are cremated,\nand,--but I forbear. Stress of hunger alone leads him to dark deeds which\nforfeit his claim to human sympathy. It should be remembered in extenuation\nthat he owes little or nothing to a cruelly indifferent humanity, and that\nhe preserves, as we shall presently see, an innate friendliness which no\nneglect can quite eradicate. He is a street Arab, but he shows preferences\nfor people as well as for places. He follows the cultivator afield and\nwatches the gray bundle of cotton cloth slung to a branch and the h\u016bqqa\nleft under a tree, but I doubt whether he would make any effective defence\nof them. When the frugal \"nooning\" of unleavened flap-jacks and butter-milk\nis eaten he wistfully awaits his share at a respectful distance. The\nchildren handle and play with him, and go to sleep by his side when tired\nof rolling in the dust, but when they grow up they cut his companionship.\n\n[Illustration: PLAYFELLOWS]\n\nMost Anglo-Indians have had an experience similar to that related by Bishop\nHeber in his journal of a sudden and unaccountable attachment on the part\nof a homeless pariah dog. A scrap of food, a word of notice, or even a look\nfrom one accustomed to command dogs wakes a chord in the creature's nature,\nand he longs to acknowledge a master. There are many instances of street\ndogs becoming civilised in European hands, and some have become faithful\ncompanions and friends. But it is as dangerous for a dog of this kind to\nleave his kindred as for a high-caste Hindu to cross the sea. Canine caste\nlaws are strict, and a dog from a strange clan venturing into the\nterritories of another tribe is sure of a hot reception. A country story\nexpresses this with pretty irony. Once upon a time a dog ran \"all the way\nfrom the Ganges\" (any long distance) in one day. \"How on earth did you come\nso swiftly, O dog?\" \"By the kindness of my brethren,\" is the reply. He had\nbeen chivied and chased from village to village as an intruder. A dog who\nhad left his place and family connections for a period could not return\nwith safety. So the pariah is not reluctant to adopt a master without a\ncause. He is the victim of an implacable socialism, the slave of a\nsharp-toothed trade union. He would like regular meals, and for their\nunwonted sake is willing to submit to authority, but what would the other\ntykes say and do? So he resigns himself to thoughtless freedom, wherefore\ndoes his skull remain narrow, his form wolf-like, and his mental character\ntimorous and suspicious; sudden in impotent rage, loud in complaint, and\nnocturnal in habit; with that strange and long-drawn sympathy with lunar\ninfluences which the dog of civilisation has partly learned to forget.\n\nThere are many dogs which have an air of vagabondage, but who are owned and\nin some sort cared for. Yet the general habit of the animal in India is to\nattach himself to a place rather than to a person. In Europe this trait is\noften the mark of a high and magnanimous nature, for there dogs are\nattached to regiments, fire brigades, and other bodies corporate, of which\nthey form an almost essential part, belonging to no one individual, but\nenjoying a noble sense of comradeship with all. No such honour is allowed\nto the poor Indian dog. They say contemptuously of a parasite or\ntime-server, the Serai (native inn) dog is friendly with everybody; and the\nwasherman's dog furnishes a saying in universal use. The washerman has a\nhouse, but he takes his clothes to the river-bank or gh\u00e2t to be washed, so\nof the dog who attends him they say, he belongs to neither house nor gh\u00e2t.\nThis saying is commonly applied to idle artisans, gadding house-wives, and\ntruant schoolboys. The washerman's dog stands for a person at a loose end,\nas the oilman's ox for a laborious man or woman. Mr. Quilp said of his dog\nthat it lived on one side of the way and was generally found on the other.\n\nAn old gentleman in _Punch_ seeing at a railway station a cat without a\ntail, says to the porter,--\"One of the celebrated Manx cats, I suppose?\"\n\"No,\" replies the porter,--\"2.30 express.\" At Indian railway stations dogs\nare often seen minus a leg or a tail; for in a country where even the\nrailway men have not yet learned that it is dangerous to go to sleep with a\nhead or a leg across the rails, it is scarcely to be wondered at if the\ndogs are sometimes caught napping. The mutilated member soon heals, and the\nanimal hops cheerfully round the station and learns to meet every train\nregularly. On the long Indian journeys much food is taken by the\npassengers, both Native and European, and there are many scraps. So the\nrailway dog is becoming an institution. On the \"toy railway,\" as natives\npersist in calling the narrow gauge lines, the animals are rather tiresome,\nfor a bound brings them into one's carriage and another takes them out with\na cold fowl or a packet of sandwiches in their prompt mouths.\n\nThe one ritualistic observance in which the dog takes a part concerns\nneither Hindus nor Muhammadans, but only the Parsees. It is a practice of\nthe sun-worshippers to bring a dog into the room where a Parsee is lying\nin the hour and article of death. This, I believe, is the prescribed form,\nbut the practice seems to be to take the dog in to look at the corpse when\nthe spirit has passed away. The rite is as obscure in theory as in\npractice, and I have never heard or seen a satisfactory explanation of it.\n\nThe dog is more frequently eaten than we are apt to believe. In Hindu\npoetry, innocent low-caste folk are contemptuously spoken of as\n\"dog-cookers.\" I am assured that there is some ground for the gibe at\nSansis and other gypsy tribes,--\"When the gypsies come in at one side of\nthe town, the dogs file out at the other.\" There is a double reason for\nthis retreat, for not only do the Sansis eat dogs, but being in their way\nsporting characters, they keep dogs of their own, and a dog with never so\nsqualid a man for master is dreaded by the ownerless pariah. An ordinary\nIndian street dog weighs from twenty to thirty-six pounds, and if he were\nfed would probably be over forty pounds in weight. Carrion-eating tribes\nhave no prejudices in the matter of food, and the lizard, the jackal, and\nthe rat are favourite roasts. It is manifest that to stomachs of this\nhardihood a dog would furnish lordly dishes.\n\nThere is a nine-word saying among poor folk to express a dilemma, which\nindicates the possibility of dog's flesh being mistaken for that of the\nkid: \"If I tell, my mother will be beaten, if I don't tell, my father will\neat dog's flesh.\" The story is that a housewife cooked dog's flesh by\nmistake, and the small son of the house alone knew what manner of meat was\nin the pot--an awful weight on the mind of a Muhammadan child. It is by no\nmeans necessary, of course, for the currency or force of the saying, that\nit should be based on an actual incident, for a remote possibility or an\nimpossibility serves just as well.\n\nIn some regions dogs are regularly eaten. The N\u00e2gas on the Assam frontier\nhave a partiality for a dog who has just been full fed with rice and milk.\nHe is hastily killed and cooked whole,--\"_chien farci au naturel_.\" It may\nbe that out-caste folk have more toothsome food than we know. It is not\nproved that the lizard, the crocodile, and the snake are uneatable; indeed,\nit is probable they are very good. Jackal and fox must be dry and hard, but\nthe stew-pot may reduce them to succulence. Darwin dined on puma in South\nAmerica and found it like veal. I once accompanied a little company of\nsilent Bhils in a search for field-rats, which were dug out and captured\nwith great dexterity,--plump brown and white creatures, fed on the best of\nthe crops and doubtless of fine flavour; but I did not wait to see how they\nwere cooked over a fire, the kindling for which was carefully borne by a\nyoung woman of the party, who had much ado to screen it from the wind\nblowing over the high downs of the Deccan.\n\nIn the foregoing paragraphs the academical or official view of the\nout-caste dog as regarded by respectable people has been treated. The\npicture is not pleasing, nor should it be completely convincing to those\nwho know and like the animal. In spite of conventional prejudice the dog,\nas might be expected, has won his way to a better place than most Europeans\nknow of. The habit of foul and indiscriminate feeding may disgust the\nHindu; and the Muhammadan,--most conservative of races,--may cherish his\nancient grudge, but both are learning that the dog of good caste is a\nuseful companion and friend. The indigenous canine aristocracy is not\nlarge, but it exists. Among the best breeds are the hounds kept by the\nBanj\u0101ris--a caste of half gypsy carriers and traders, referred to\nelsewhere. These are large and stout animals marked by the Eastern tendency\nto greyhound form, and are prized both as watch-dogs and for the chase. The\nRampur hound is a similar beast, much cherished by sporting Nawabs. English\nauthorities seem to think the greyhound came to Europe from the East.\nPersian greyhounds are imported and naturalised. Their coats are ragged and\nthe forms lack symmetry, but some of these animals recall Sir Walter\nScott's _Maida_ of beloved memory. The sheep dogs kept by the Him\u00e1layan\nshepherds are warmly spoken of by their owners, who say that when the\nmountain paths are hidden in mist, they are infallible guides. On the\nplains sheep-dogs are seen, but they have none of the dash or vivacity of\nthe British collie, slouching along, head and ears down; companions rather\nthan directors of the sheep. Often, indeed, they may be seen in the middle\nof the flock. The sulky Tibetan mastiff is a splendid watch-dog, supposed\nto be capable of killing and eating a thief, and he is sometimes seen in\nthe plains, but his ferocity, ill-temper, and heavy coat will prevent him\nfrom becoming popular. The black-tongued, thick-furred Eskimo-looking\nanimal, now a favourite in England, comes to India from Tibet over the\nhills, and the ordinary village dog of the Him\u00e1laya has a strongly-marked\ntendency to this bushy-tailed, fox-muzzled type. There are also among\ncommon pariahs some mongrel variations, including a creature like the\nturnspit. Bishop Heber, an observer of unusual quickness, was more struck\nby the variety of colour and breed in native dogs than the unity apparent\nto his successors, and asks, \"Are they indigenous, or is it possible that\ntheir stock can have been derived from us?\"\n\nAlthough no Eastern writer has said much in favour of the dog, there are a\nfew stories current among the people which testify to an appreciation of\nhis faithfulness. A Punjab tale recalls the pitiful fate of Gelert over\nwhich so many English children have grieved. A Pathan gave a Hindu banker\nsome money to keep for him and lent his dog to guard the banker's house.\nOne night the thieves came and the dog barked, trying in vain to rouse the\nsleeping usurer. Failing in this, the clever beast watched the thieves and\nsaw where they hid the spoil. In the morning he led the banker to the spot,\nscratching the ground to show where to dig. The money was recovered, and\nthe grateful banker tied a letter round the dog's neck and sent him to the\nPathan. But the latter, being hasty and irascible, struck off the animal's\nhead for deserting his post, finding too late by means of the letter that\nthe poor beast had been faithful to his trust. Even the pariah dog enjoys\nsome popular respect as a watch-dog.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBritish influence, however, is the main factor in a slow but indubitable\nrevolution now taking place in favour of the dog. A modern philosophical\nwriter says the British Empire in India is but \"a romantic episode\"\ndestined to pass away and leave no recognisable trace. This utterance would\nbe worth respecting if trustworthy documents existed on which so large a\nforecast could be reasonably based. But in the present state of our\nknowledge of the country, and of the tendencies of the popular mind, it can\nbe nothing more than one of the superficial profundities of smart\njournalism. That the form which Indian political institutions will\neventually assume may differ materially from the intentions and\nanticipations of those who have planted them is an elementary consideration\nbeyond which no plain man will now care to travel. Whatever may be its\nresults in a political sense, the \"romantic episode\" will leave a notable\nimprint on some physical aspects of the land. Traces of the Briton will\nlong survive in the animal as in the vegetable world. The dog and the horse\naccompany us everywhere, for it is part of our insular vanity to declare\nthat no other dogs or horses are half so good as ours. Packs of fox-hounds\nare regularly imported; the subaltern, the private soldier, and the\ncivilian bring bull-dogs, mastiffs, and terriers of every degree. Spaniels,\nretrievers, and greyhounds accompany sportsmen; the great Danes are\noccasionally seen, while ladies bring such pets as Maltese, Skyes, Dandie\nDinmonts, and dachshunds.\n\nThis canine immigration has been going on for a long time. Sir Thomas Roe\nbrought a present of British mastiffs to the Great Mogul,--the Emperor\nJehanghir. One jumped overboard to attack the porpoises diving near the\nlittle ship; another on the way up-country seized an elephant. These little\ntraits of pugnacity endeared them to the Emperor, who provided them with\nservants, carriages, and palkis in which to take the air, and had silver\ndishes and tongs made in order that he might feed them with his own royal\nhands. Probably they were fed to death, but haply some of their descendants\nare now slinking round the slums of Delhi or Agra trailing nerveless tails\nin the hot dust and yapping at the travelling Briton as a foreign intruder.\n\nThe English dog has come to stand as a high-caste animal of respectable\nbirth. Our domestic life is jealously shut off by the people from contact\nwith their own, but the inmates of the prison-house have learned that the\ndog is a valuable domestic friend. Native ladies see that European animals\nare unlike the unclean creatures of the street, and are anxious to adopt\nthem. Already English names are naturalised and Persianised after the\nliquid Oriental manner. The _puny\u00e1r_ is the spaniel, which used to be\nthought most highly of, probably from its silky unlikeness to the pariah,\nbut its coat is too heavy for the climate. The bull-dog, vulgarly spoken of\nas the _g\u016bld\u0101nk_, is highly prized as a watch-dog, while its fighting\ninstincts commend it to the increasing class which takes delight in sport.\nA dog of an English breed sometimes receives an English name from its\nnative master, as Eespot for \"Spot.\" A servant of ours once contributed to\na family debate on the name to be given to a puppy the remark that Fanny\n(both vowels very long) was the best possible name for a dog. \"Bully\" is a\nfavourite Indo-Anglian dog-name.\n\nIn recent years the clever and amiable fox-terrier, who withstands the\ngreat heat of the plains better than any other breed, has come to the front\nand promises to be the dog of the Indian future. The pariah, like the sound\npatriot he is, appears to know this, and waylays the English animal as\nbands of street-boys in the West waylay a strayed public-school boy. A new\nscience, the care and lore of dogs, picked up by menial servants from their\nEnglish masters, is being formed and spreads upwards among the people.\n\nSo, though we may pass away and be forgotten, the dogs we loved will remain\nas permanent colonists. But it appears to be a fact that the creole dog,\nborn in India of imported parents, develops some of the characteristics of\nthe indigenous animal. His head, especially his nose, grows longer and\nnarrower, he loses substance in the neck, chest, and loins; he stands on\nhigher legs and wags a longer tail than his British-born parents. The\nclimate exerts a deteriorating influence on his moral qualities, and he\nloses some of the courage, temper, and fine spirits which are the\nbirthright of a good dog in the West.\n\nIt is to an influence of this nature, rather than to any reasoning or\nreligious prescription, that we may look for the growth of a humane\nappreciation of animals in general. There can be no doubt that the English\npeople are more indebted to the humble and sympathetic tutorship of the dog\nthan they are aware of, for such pre-eminence in a recognition of the\nrights of animals as distinguishes them. You may quote in opposition to the\ncanons, which of set purpose have thrust the ass and the dog beyond the\npale of mercy, that wise word of Jeremy Bentham, who said, \"The question is\nnot,--can animals speak or reason, but can they suffer?\" But the\ncompanionship of a good dog will teach more effectively than the words of\nany philosopher. Nor is the lesson uncongenial to the Indian people,\nalthough for many generations they have allowed a practice of neglect and\nindifference and a multitude of superstitious beliefs to obscure the real\nkindliness of their nature.\n\nIt is a good omen when a fox shows his face, so a sympathetic saying runs,\n\"The fox gives luck to everybody, but himself is thinking of the dogs all\nthe time.\" A sly fellow is called a fox in India as elsewhere, and the\nanimal plays a part in some stories. But the jackal is the true Mr. Reynard\nof Eastern folk tales, the great original of the best of our fox\nstories;--sweet-toothed, mischievous, lurking; and as full of resource as\nBrer' Rabbit.\n\nThe jackal's night-cry,--the wild chorus with which the band begins its\nhungry prowl, is of evil omen, which is wonderful, seeing that in nearly\nevery town and village of the vast continent it is heard about the same\nhour of the evening; but it is believed that when the cry is raised near\nthe house of a sick person, it is a sure presage of death, and that jackals\nscent coming dissolution, much as sharks are said by sailors to scent death\non a ship. There are endless stories in favour of this belief.\n\nThe jackal's chorus is so sudden and shrill a clamour, so importunate and\near-filling, that one daily marvels at its equally sudden cessation. The\nair ought to go on vibrating with these fearsome yells, but it abruptly\nshuts down on them, still as a sleeping pond. And you resume your talk or\nwork, but the creature with that one imprecation has sworn himself to hours\nof silence. Thereafter he goes dumbly to a night of hungry and often\nghoulish research, for his sanscrit-born name is \"greedy.\" But when going\non a morning journey, the distant cry of one jackal (besides being rare) is\nlucky, as says a North-West Provinces rhyme, translated by Mr. Crooke in\nhis valuable _Agricultural Glossary_: \"A donkey on the left, a jay (the\nroller is meant) on the right, and a jackal howling in the distance--all\nomens of wealth and happiness. Go, and bring home four bags of gold.\" A\njackal crossing the road to the left is lucky, to the right, unlucky.\n\nVery many stories of the jackal are to be found in old books and folk-lore,\nbut in the talk of to-day he scarcely takes the high place to which his\nclassic reputation entitles him, being used as much as an object of\nderision as a model of cleverness. Most modern native humour, however,\ntakes the form of irony. His talents are acknowledged in a saying which\nclasses him with that busy and important person, the barber: \"The jackal is\nthe sharpest among beasts, the crow among birds, and the barber among men.\"\nThe barber of India is, in fact, a clever Figaro; news-bearer, matrimonial\nagent, surgeon, and busybody in general. The painted jackal who 'fell into\nthe dyers' vat and set up as king on the strength of his fine colour, has\nstrayed from the Panchatantra into modern life, and you may hear of\n\"painted jackals\" being elected to the honours of a municipal \"Kemety\"\n(committee). \"The jackal fell into a well,--I think I will rest here\nto-day, said he\"--is a charming way to express the making the best of a\ndownright bad job. \"The jackal born in August says of the September flood,\nI never saw so much water in all my life,\" is a popular snub for youthful\nconceit. So also is, \"The horse and the elephant are swept away, and the\njackal asks--Is it deep?\" \"The jackal fell into the river and cried, The\ndeluge has come and all the world is drowning!\" recalls the American\n\"Thinks the bottom has tumbled out of the universe because his own tin-pot\nleaks,\" or the drunken English skipper, who, when fished out of London\ndock, went dripping to the cuddy and gravely wrote in his log-book, \"This\nnight the ship went down, and all hands were drowned but me.\" He is\nsupposed to be the friend and guide of the tiger, so the hangers-on of\npowerful persons are known as jackals. Boy and jackal have the same name in\nthe North-West Provinces, and neither has much right to complain. \"The\njackal slips away and your stick jars on the ground,\" is a saying of\nobvious meaning.\n\nNot that a stick would be of much avail against a jackal, for they say, no\nmatter how savagely he may be beaten, he will pick his sore body up when\nleft to die, and slink away to resume a life of crime. I once saw a large\nIrish retriever do all he knew to kill a jackal, and at last, in despair of\nthe efficacy of his teeth, he dragged him at a hint from his master to a\npond and drowned him fit for any coroner.\n\n[Illustration: IN FLOODTIME]\n\nThe jackal afflicted with rabies is a deadly creature, and more common than\none likes to think.\n\nMenu, the wise Hindu law-giver, was consistently brutal to women, and after\nclassing wives as \"marital property\" with cows, mares, she-camels,\nslave-girls, she-goats, and ewes, he says the wife who violates her duty to\nher husband is disgraced in this world, and after death she enters into the\nwomb of a jackal and is tormented by diseases! There is a hateful monotony\nin the abuse bestowed on women. Nowadays no one greatly cares for Menu, but\nin the East, as in the West, the baser sort habitually call their women\nfolk by the name of the female dog.\n\nIndia is probably the cradle of wolf-child stories, which are here\nuniversally believed and supported by a cloud of testimony, including in\nthe famous Lucknow case of a wolf boy the evidence of European witnesses.\nAnd there are many who firmly believe in the power of magicians to\ntransform themselves into wolves at will. But though the wolf is probably\nthe parent of all dogs, he is, as a wild beast, beyond the narrow scope of\nthis sketch.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nOF CATS\n\n\n\"If you want to know what a tiger is like, look at a cat; if you want to\nknow what a thug is like, look at a butcher,\" is a common Hindu saying, but\nonly half of it is quite true. The thug is, or let us hope, was, capable of\nmany disguises, and his favourite semblance was that of the Brahman and the\nreligious mendicant. Victor Hugo has expressed the tigerishness of the cat\nin his own swaggering fashion: \"_Dieu a fait le chat pour donner \u00e0 l'homme\nle plaisir de caresser le tigre_.\" There are not many Indian sayings about\ncats in men's talk, but probably sensitive women have more than we know of.\nCats are not so much petted here as in England, and have a stronger\ntendency to run wild. Generations of devoted cat-lovers in Europe have not\nbeen able to quite overcome this tendency, and many a gamekeeper can tell\nyou of cats which during the day are models of saintly propriety, and at\nnight are \"just prowling tigers.\" No creature is more independent than the\ncat. Its more complete domestication in the West is in reality merely due\nto its love of warmth. For the sake of comfort it will tolerate humanity\nand blink amiably at the fireside, but a serene selfishness is the basis of\ncat character. The Indian domestic cat is not bound to the family circle\nby the need of warmth; there is no fireside to speak of, and it lives its\nown life.\n\nNor are household breakages attributed so freely to the cat, because there\nare so few things to break in an Indian household, and the customs of the\ncountry do not include pantries and the storing of flesh food. It is\nsometimes, however, slung in a net, so they say of a windfall, \"Cat's in\nluck, the net broke!\" Care does not kill the Eastern cat, nor has she nine\nlives nor nine tails, but she is used in a frequently-quoted saying about\ndoubtful matters. \"If the Punchayet (village council) says it's a cat, why,\ncat it is.\" This saying _may_ be built on a story, but it is certain that a\nlittle story is built on the saying. A grocer one night heard sounds in his\nshop, and, venturing into the dark, he laid hold of a thief. The marauder\nmewed like a cat, hoping the grocer would let go. But the grocer only\ngripped tighter, saying, \"All right, my friend; if the Punchayet in the\nmorning says you're a cat, you shall be a cat and go; but meanwhile I'll\nlock you up.\"\n\nA proverb about setting a cat to watch uncovered milk pans shows the Indian\ncat to be as fond of milk as the English. \"I wasn't so angry at the cat\nstealing the butter, as at her wagging her tail,\" is a saying of obvious\napplication. Of the great Sepoy mutiny they say, \"The cat (the English)\ntaught the tiger (the Sepoy), till he came to eat her.\" Of a hypocrite:\n\"The cat, with mouse tails still hanging out of her mouth, says--Now I feel\ngood, I will go on a pilgrimage to Mecca.\" The Indian cat _miyaus_, which\nis better by a syllable than the English _mew_; so they say to child or\nservant: \"What! my own cat, and _miyau_ at me!\" \"The cat does not catch\nmice for God\" has obvious applications.\n\nAn odd bit of observation, acknowledging in a mistaken fashion the\nexquisite nervous sensibility of the cat, is shown in, \"When the cat is\nashamed, it scratches the wall.\" The idea is that when a cat is noticed it\nbecomes afflicted with self-consciousness, and \"to make itself a\ncountenance,\" as the French say, it scratches the wall. But cats scratch\nthe wall to keep their claws in order, just as tigers and leopards do. I\nventure to see in the saying an evidence of the Oriental dislike of the\nmood of embarrassment or shyness. A well-brought-up Oriental is remarkable,\nas a rule, for his want of _mauvaise honte_. Quite small boys are calm and\nself-possessed, with full control over eyes, fingers, and limbs, in\nsituations where English children would be writhing in nervous\nembarrassment. In Capt. R. C. Temple's edition of Fallon's _Hindustani\nProverbs_ it is an angry cat that scratches the wall in impotent rage. I\nhave heard it \"ashamed\" as above. The scratching, moreover, is a tranquil\nperformance, usually ensuing after a yawn and stretch, and in nowise\nsuggests rage. Probably both versions are current. \"Even a cat is a lion in\nher own lair,\" is a saying used when mild people flare up in self-defence.\n\nThe cat seems to have no particular walk in Hindu mythology, nor are there\nmany folk tales like our Whittington, and Puss in Boots. The jungle\nwild-cat is a poor relation of the domestic pussy, and poor relations are\napt to compromise the most respectable people and prevent them taking their\nproper place in society. The Persian cat is prized as a family pet, and\nnumbers are brought down from K\u0101bul by the Povindahs, a tribe of Afghan\ndealers who bring camel caravans with various kinds of produce into the\nPunjab every winter.\n\nCats are frequently kept in the courts and purlieus of Muhammadan mosques\nwhich serve as rest-houses for religious persons. If you make friends with\na mosque cat and talk with the Mutwalli or sacristan, its owner, you will\nprobably hear of Ab\u00fb Harera (father of cats), one of the friends of\nMuhammad, who had as great a fondness for cats as Th\u00e9ophile Gautier, and\nwith whom the Prophet conversed on the subject, saying,--\"I love all who\nare good to cats for your sake.\" Though this is a merely popular legend,\nsanctioned by no authoritative tradition or _had\u00ees_, it seems to have\nsecured good treatment for the cat at the hands of most Indian Muhammadans.\nFrom Cairo, when the annual procession of the Kiswa goes to Mecca, cats are\nalways sent on the camels; formerly they were accompanied by an old woman\nknown as the Mother of the Cats, and it has been suggested that this may be\na survival of the ancient Egyptian reverence for cats which has so often\nmade readers of Herodotus smile. But the legend of Ab\u00fb Harera shows that we\nneed not look so far back for an explanation of the honour in which Puss is\nheld. The sympathy of the Prophet with his friend's predilection seems to\nbe confirmed by the pretty story of his cutting off the skirt of his coat\nrather than disturb the sleeping cat, his pet.\n\nI told that story once to a Kashmiri Muhammadan, when urging on him the\nadvantages of treating animals kindly, and was answered as prosy preachers\ndeserve to be. \"Yes,\" said my friend, the leader of a gang of _kahars_ or\nporters, \"the sahib spoke the words of truth, it is wrong to ill-use\ncreatures whom God has made. Once before it was my fortune to listen to\nsimilar talk from a sahib who also knew of the Prophet. That sahib was a\nmodel of virtue, he also would not allow mules or ponies to be beaten, and\nhis regard for men was such, that he insisted on paying them double the\nusual daily rate, while to me,--such was the virtue of that sahib,--he gave\na handsome present.\" This little speech was beautifully delivered, but it\nought to be Englished in the Irish tongue to give it due effect.\n\nA sneering saying is, \"In a learned house even the cat is learned.\" A sly\nman is said to look like a drowned cat; a live cat is said to be better\nthan a dead tiger, as a living dog is better than a dead lion; a stealthy\ntread is, of course, catlike; and it is easy to imagine occasions when one\nmight say of a human creature, \"The cowed cat allows even a mouse to bite\nits ears.\" In nature a cowed cat is as rare as a silent woman, but a\nproverb has not necessarily much concern with nature. We say, \"Even a worm\nwill turn.\" In India the cat is considered so gentle, they say, \"Even a\ncat, hard pressed, will make a fight for it.\" To an idle girl a mother will\nsay, \"Did the cat sneeze, or what?\" (that you drop your work). To her\nchild, too, the mother will point the cat cleaning her face and fur as an\nexample of cleanliness, saying the cat is a Brahmani, nice and clean.\n\nIn Kashmir they say, \"If cats had wings, there would be no ducks on the\nlake.\" Cats are credited with an occult sympathy with the moon, on account\nof their contracting eyes and nocturnal habits. You may hear cats spoken of\nwith mistrust for this peculiarity, for natives dislike being abroad at\nnight. They take lanterns, go in companies, and sing to keep their courage\nup; but they hate and fear the dark, thickly peopled with ghosts, demons,\nand imaginary evil folk of flesh and blood. So we need not see in the\nascription of the cat to the moon an echo of its ancient Egyptian\ndedication. A cat's moon is a Kashmiri expression for a sleepless night.\nOld-fashioned English rustics talk of a man \"as lazy as Ludlam's dog that\nleaned his head against the wall to bark.\" In Kashmir, says the Rev. J. H.\nKnowles, they speak of Khokhai Mir's idle cat that scratched the ground on\nseeing a mouse, as who should say, \"You may catch it, master, if you like.\"\nThe sensitiveness of the cat's eye is noticed, but they do not pretend,\nlike the Chinese, to tell the time by looking at its pupil.\n\nAmong a vast number of omens the cat takes a place. A cat crossing the path\nof a native going out on business would turn him back at once, for it is\nmost unlucky. Orientals are terribly superstitious. Yes, but here is a\nverse by an English poet,[4] writing from first-hand knowledge of\nhard-headed Whitby fisher folk,--\n\n    \"I'm no way superstitious as the parson called our Mat,\n    When he'd none sail with the herring fleet, 'cause he met old Susie's\n        cat.\n    There's none can say I heeded, though a hare has crossed my road,\n    Nor burnt the nets as venomed, where a woman's foot had trode.\"\n\n[Footnote 4: _On the Seaboard and other Poems_, by Susan K. Phillips.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nOF ANIMAL CALLS\n\n    \"The beasts are very wise,\n    Their mouths are clean of lies;\n    They talk one to the other,\n    Bullock to bullock's brother,\n    Resting after their labours,\n    Each in stall with his neighbours.\n    But man with goad and whip,\n    Breaks up their fellowship,\n    Shouts in their silky ears\n    Filling their souls with fears.\n    When he has tilled the land\n    He says,--'They understand.'\n    But the beasts in stall together,\n    Freed from yoke and tether,\n    Say, as the torn flanks smoke,\n    'Nay, 'twas the whip that spoke.'\"--R. K.\n\n\nIn English we say \"Puss puss\" to a cat. \"_Pooch pooch_\" is sometimes used\nin India, but \"_koor koor_\" is a more frequent word to dogs, cats, and\ndomestic pets. \"_Toi-toi_\" is a call of the same kind. \"_Ti-ti_\" is a\nKashmir call to fowls and ducks. \"_Ahjao!_\" the first syllable long drawn\nout, is the usual cry to fowls for feeding, and faqirs living in woodland\nplaces thus call peacocks and monkeys to a dole of grain. Though not a tail\nis visible at first, plaintive cries like those of lost kittens come\nfaintly from aloft and afar in response, gradually growing louder. Then,\none by one, slinging onward and downward, the creatures arrive with their\nleader. \"_Ah ah ah!_\" is also a common fowl and pigeon call. The sacred\ncrocodiles in the Rajputana lakes are invited to dinner by the Brahmans\nwith \"_Ao bhai!_\"--Come, brother! Elephants have quite a small dictionary\nof their own. There are separate words for--go quickly, sit, kneel with\nfront legs, with hind legs, with all four, lie down and sleep, go slowly,\nlift a foot, rise, move backwards, stand still, break off branches, put me\nup with your trunk, make a salaam, and possibly more. All these are\nunderstood. A good mahout, too, is always talking to his beast, like the\nploughman and ox-cart driver. When riding on an elephant those who have the\nknack of self-effacement and appearing to take no notice may hear quaint\nthings sometimes, na\u00efve comments on themselves and odd phrases of reproach\nand encouragement to the beast. One might, indeed, from these soliloquies,\nascribe more faith in animal intelligence to the Oriental than he really\ncherishes. Many natives habitually talk to themselves by way of beguiling\nthe tedium of a long road; and old women of the rustic class, when walking\nalone, frequently rehearse their family quarrels or bargainings with\ndramatic gestures.\n\nCamels have but a limited vocabulary, nor do they seem to have brought with\nthem the Arabic \"_tss, tss_,\" which is the \"woa\" of the beast throughout\nhis Western home from Morocco to Hadramaut. \"_Hoosh_\" is the Biloch\ndriver's command for sit, but in the Eastern Punjab plain they say \"_jai_.\"\nFor go on they use the heavily aspirated word for shout, \"_h\u0101nkh,_,\" which\nis also a great ox-word; whence comes \"_h\u0101nkh,_\" a drive of wild animals.\nIn Anglo-Indian slang there are Government servants who have to be\n\"_h\u0101nkhed_\" or driven to their work.\n\n\"_Hiyo!_\" is a cow cry, but with none of the fine note of the English\nnorth-country \"How up!\" nor is there a pretty call like the \"C\u016bsha! c\u016bsha!\"\nthat Miss Ingelow has used so effectively in her beautiful poem, \"A high\ntide on the coast of Lincolnshire.\" And as \"Whitefoot\" and \"Lightfoot\" are\ncalled to come up to the milking shed, so Indian cows are summoned by their\nnames, often those of the days of the week, Tuesday (Mangal) being\nespecially lucky. A deep, guttural, cork-drawing tock, very different from\nthe English carter's click, and hard to learn, is much used for oxen, with\na variety of tones of anger, encouragement, and remonstrance in the\nchest-deep \"_h\u0101n_.\" When in a hurry or stuck in a rut, Indian carters\nproduce noises that the most skilful ventriloquist would find hard to\nimitate. They rumble like a rusty tower clock in act to strike, they\ngurgle, grunt, click, moan, and shout strange words known only to oxen,\npunctuating every period with blows. \"_Cheeo, Cheeo_\" is said to oxen\ndrinking, and as they are released from labour, and must be a welcome word.\n\nAnimals also hear just the same foul and senseless abuse of their female\nrelatives that their masters bestow on each other. The constantly heard\n\"_Sala_\" (brother-in-law) is the key-word to this loathsome line of talk.\nAmong caressing epithets in use are young one, son, father, mother,\ndarling, and daughter; sometimes _my_ child, etc. The interjection of\nsurprise of ordinary life \"_ar\u00e9!_\" is often heard as a sort of \"Would you,\nnow?\" Horses are calmed and stopped by the kissing chirrup with which we\nstimulate them in Europe, as a newcomer learns with surprise when his steed\nstops dead at a sound meant to make him go faster. Bird-catchers and\njungle-folk at large imitate all bird and animal cries with surprising\nskill. Quails, however, are lured to the net by a mechanical call, produced\nby the finger-nail on a stretched skin. On thieving excursions the notes of\nthe jackal, owl, and other creatures are used as signals by burglars and\ncattle-stealers.\n\nOn the whole Indian country cries and songs are harsh and unpleasing. But\nthere are exceptions to this rule. In Hindustan and parts of the Bombay\nPresidency where oxen, walking down an incline, haul up water, the drivers\naccompany their work with songs clear in note, musical in cadence, and\npathetic in effect.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nOF ANIMAL TRAINING\n\n\nIndia,--land of waning wonders,--has a great name for the training of\nanimals, a pursuit in which the people are popularly believed to attain\nmarvellous success by reason of special aptitudes and faculties. In the\nyellow-backed romances of the boulevard Orientalism in which the French\nindulge, Indian princes and princesses are habitually attended by trained\nleopards and tigers, while English writers dwell on the skill of the\ntrainers. But seen from near and compared with what has been done and is\nnow done in other countries, the wonder pales a little. Nothing half so\nsquarely attempted and completely accomplished as the modern European and\nAmerican training of wild beasts in performances foreign to their nature\nand habits has ever been thought of in India. It should be noted, to begin\nwith, that only persons of low caste ever engage in this pursuit, which\ndemands peculiar qualities of hand, will, and temper, and cannot be learned\nas easily as wood-sawing. These people have a wonderful knowledge of\nwoodcraft, and are fearless with the creatures they know so well. They can\ncatch and tame, but, at the risk of falling into the pestilent error of\nhair-splitting, I venture to discriminate between taming and training. The\nfirst is the most important part but not nearly the whole of the latter,\nand it is the first only which is well done.\n\nBut as to training as indicated, for example, in the deservedly popular\nworks of the late Rev. J. G. Wood, it may be worth while to look a little\nnearer. This authority wrote that \"in India trained otters are almost as\ncommon as trained dogs.\" But they are not used throughout Hindustan, nor in\nCentral India, nor in the Punjab, where they are found in great numbers,\nand in the regions where they help in fishing they are never seen out of\nthe hands of their owners, obscure river-side tribes. They are only\nemployed in the back waters of Cochin, in part of Bengal, and on the Indus\nriver. All that we see of the otter in Britain is a poor little beast\ndesperately fighting for its life against murderous crowds of dogs and men;\nbut in reality there are few animals of more amiability, talent, and\ndocility. A Scottish gamekeeper once trained one to go with dogs, and used\nto say it was the best cur in the pack. They are effectually tamed in\nIndia, which is an easy matter, and they practise for the benefit of the\nfisherman the art to which they are ordained by nature. The cormorant and\nthe pelican are also used by the Indus boatmen as in China for fishing. The\npelican, though furnished by nature with the finest game-bag or creel ever\ncarried by angler, is inferior to the cormorant (_Graculus carbo_) as a\nfisherman. Both these birds, like the otter, fish by nature, nor could\nBuckland or Cholmondeley-Pennell teach them a turn of their craft. It is\ncertainly interesting to see the hooded cormorants on the fishermen's\nhouse-boats and the otters tethered to stakes near, playing with the no\nless amphibious children and behaving like the playful, intelligent\nwater-cats they are. But both this sight and the knowledge that they are\nused in this wise are distinctly _un_common and out of the range of the\npeople of India at large.\n\n[Illustration: A HUNTING CHEETAH]\n\nThe same writer also descants on the great powers of Orientals in training\nthe cheetah or hunting leopard (_Felis jubata_). In this instance the only\npoint where real skill comes into play is in the first capture of the adult\nanimal, when it has already learned the swift bounding onset,--its one\naccomplishment. The young cheetah is not worth catching, for it has not\nlearned its trade, nor can it be taught in captivity! The Christian\nMissionary is occasionally asked to state exactly how he proposes to\nconvert the heathen man, and he sensibly concludes, as a rule, to begin\nwith the child. The problem of how to catch uninjured so powerful and\nactive a beast as the hunting leopard seems as difficult as the conversion\nof the heathen adult. In practice, however, it is simple. There are certain\ntrees where these great dog-cats (for they have some oddly canine\ncharacteristics) come to play and whet their claws. The hunters find such a\ntree, arrange deer-sinew nooses round it, and await the event. The animal\ncomes and is caught by a leg, and it is at this point the trouble begins.\nIt is no small achievement for two or three naked, ill-fed men to secure so\nfierce a captive and carry him home on a cart. Then his training commences.\nHe is tied in all directions, principally from a thick grummet of rope\nround his loins, while a hood fitted over his head effectually blinds him.\nHe is fastened on a strong cot bedstead, and the keepers and their wives\nand families reduce him to submission by starving him and keeping him\nawake. His head is made to face the village street, and for an hour at a\ntime several times a day his keepers make pretended rushes at him and wave\ncloths, staves, and other articles in his face. He is talked to\ncontinually, and women's tongues are believed to be the most effective\nanti-soporifics. No created being could resist the effects of hunger, want\nof sleep, and feminine scolding, and the poor cheetah becomes piteously,\nabjectly tame. He is taken out for a walk, occasionally, if a slow crawl\nbetween four attendants, all holding hard, can be called a walk, and his\npromenades are always through the most crowded bazaars, where the keepers'\nfriends are to be found. The street dog snarls and growls from a safe\ndistance at the little procession, and occasionally a child, suddenly\ncatching sight of the strange beast, breaks into a frightened cry; but the\npeople on the whole are rather pleased than otherwise to see the Raja's\ncheetahs among them.\n\n[Illustration: A RESTLESS BEDFELLOW]\n\nIt is difficult to give a just idea of the curious intimacy with animals\nthat exists in India among those who have charge of them. The cheetah's\nbedstead is like that of the keeper, and when the creature is tamed,\nleopard and man are often curled under the same blanket. When his bedfellow\nis restless, the keeper lazily stretches out an arm from his end of the cot\nand dangles a tassel over the animal's head, which seems to soothe him. In\nthe early morning I have seen a cheetah sitting up on his couch, a red\nblanket half-covering him, his tasselled red hood pushed awry, looking\nexactly like an elderly gentleman in a night-cap as he yawned with the\nirresolute air of one who is in doubt whether he will rise or turn in for\nyet another nap. Of actual training in the field there is little or none.\nSo it is not wonderful that the cheetah loses its natural dash and is often\nleft behind by the antelope. At the wedding festivities of a Punjab chief\nthe other day (March 1886) the guests were shown this sport, and the\ncheetah caught and killed a black-buck. But it was found that the Raja's\nservants, by way of making quite sure, had first hamstrung the poor\nantelope!\n\nThe ordained procedure is that the hooded leopard is taken afield on a cart\ndriven near a herd of black-buck, shown the game, and slipped. In a few\nbounds he reaches and seizes it, is rewarded with a draught of blood, or a\nmorsel of liver in a wooden spoon, and put on his cart again; but there is\na large proportion of failures. And the creature is not practising a feat\nhe has been taught, but is merely let loose to perform an act he learned in\na wild state, which his keepers cannot teach, and for which, in fact, their\nteaching seems to unfit him. I fail, therefore, to see where the\n\"wonderfully perfect training\" of which the Rev. J. G. Wood speaks comes\nin.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn some hunting pictures by Indian artists, the cart that bears the cheetah\nand his keeper is drawn by a pair of black-buck antelopes, and you often\nhear of the Nilghai also being trained to the yoke for Indian Princes. Nay,\nthere are Englishmen who have tried to harness these fine animals to the\nbuggy and the dog-cart. But though confidently reported, you may go far\nbefore meeting with an authentic case of successful antelope-harnessing. An\nOriental hears vaguely of things of this nature, and promptly accepts them\nas common and indubitable facts. In official life, speaking with Europeans,\nhe is learning to say, \"I have _heard_,\" but in private he is as cock-sure\nas a London literary man who has found a fallacy repeated in five books.\n\n[Illustration: A BEAR LEADER]\n\nStill less capacity is shown in the training of animals for street\nperformances. The bear, the monkey, the goat, and sometimes the bull, are\nled abroad to fairs by men of low caste. The gray bear (_Ursus\nisabellinus_) and the common black bear (_Ursus labiatus_) are most docile\ncreatures, and would repay good teaching. But the bear-leader is a man of\nfew and chance-hap meals, and though starvation and the stick make his\ncreatures gentle enough, he has not the wit to teach them well. Some\nbear-leaders buckle a leather apron round their bodies and, thus protected,\npretend to wrestle with the poor beast; but a paralytic dance on his hind\nlegs, cadenced by jerks on his chain and blows with the staff, is the\nusual depressing performance. No more complete picture of misery can be\nimagined than that presented by a dancing bear on a hot day in a town in\nthe Plains, where there is no escape from the pitiless sun.\n\n[Illustration: PERFORMING MONKEYS AND GOAT]\n\nA goat and two or three monkeys are the actors in a little play that goes\non unceasingly all over India. Their leader is a picturesque tatterdemalion\nwho wanders far in search of audiences and is suspected of picking up more\nthan alms. The goat kneels as a salaam; sometimes he stands with all four\nfeet carefully adjusted on a pile of hour-glass-shaped blocks of wood, and\nhe serves as charger to the monkeys, who put on caps and coats and are\njerked to and fro by their chains in a sort of dance, their hungry eyes\nintently watching the crowd for something to eat. They are Rajas going to\ncourt, they are Lord Generals-in-Chief going to fight, they are champions\nand swordsmen; and they do everything with sad indifference to the\naccompaniment of a droning mechanical patter intoned with an air of\nprofound boredom. While confessing that this performance always makes me\nmelancholy, I must admit that children, for whom it is intended, and who\nought to be good judges, are delighted by it. To some generations of\nAnglo-Indian children as well as countless hosts of native little ones it\nhas given a vast amount of gratification.\n\nDogs are so entirely neglected that the ordinary fetch-and-carry tricks of\nan English spaniel or retriever are looked at with astonishment, and you\nare listened to with polite incredulity when you describe the performances\nof a good collie with sheep.\n\nI have mentioned the elephant in another place, but while cordially\nacknowledging that Indian mahouts have a complete and most intimate mastery\nand knowledge of their own peculiar beast, I would point out that it is\nnaturally docile and gentle, and that American and English circus trainers\nmake the creature do more than the most skilful mahout has taught.\n\nIt is seldom in Northern India that the bulls led about by the\n_quasi_-religious mendicants known as \"Anandi\" do more than shake their\nheads or kneel at a sign of command. With a clever _boniment_ or patter\neven this much might be made entertaining, but the patter is seldom clever.\nIn Southern India a bull and a cow are sometimes made to enact a quarrel\nand a reconciliation, but there is not a showman in Europe who would\nconsider the animals taught to any purpose. So little contents an audience\nof rustic Indian folk, and when you call your bull Rama, and your cow Sita,\nand they are, to begin with, sacred and most cherished objects, there is\nobviously no need for elaborate performances.\n\n[Illustration: A PERFORMING BULL (MADRAS)]\n\nAs to horses, they are not so much trained as constrained, with the often\ncruel constraint of a timorous hand. No animal throughout India is brought\nto that wonderful pitch of education shown by the horses employed in\nrailway shunting yards in England, where trains are made up. At a word\nthese fine animals put forth a measured strength to set a carriage in\nmotion, at a gesture they stop or turn; they seem to know the intricate\npoints of the rails as well as the signalman; and, their service done, they\ntake up of themselves their own place in the labyrinth of iron, standing\nunmoved while the locomotives go roaring and screaming past.\n\nNo, the Oriental is not a first-rate animal trainer. With almost boundless\npatience, he has no steadfastness of aim, nor has he sufficient firmness of\nhand and will to secure confidence and obedience.\n\nYet, while the art of training may not be very thoroughly understood, the\ntribes which have to do with jungle life are often wonderful trackers and\nhighly skilled in woodcraft. Many English sportsmen in their talk, and some\nsporting writers in their books, fail to do justice to the courage and\nskill of the unarmed assistants on whom they depend for success. There are\nmany chases in which the honours ought to go to the bold and patient\ntrackers who mark down the game day after day, and manage to drive it up to\nthe guns of the well-fed English gentlemen, waiting serene and safe with a\nbattery of the best weapons London gunsmiths can provide. This mistake in\ntaste and judgment is not made by such masters as Sir S. Baker and Mr.\nSanderson, who show a friendly sympathy with their assistants.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nOF REPTILES\n\n    \"And death is in the garden awaiting till we pass,\n    For the krait is in the drain-pipe,\n        The cobra in the grass.\"\n\n                          _Anglo-Indian Nursery Rhymes._--R. K.\n\n[Illustration: VISHNU RECLINING ON THE SERPENT (FROM AN INDIAN LITHOGRAPH)]\n\n\nThe serpent has swallowed up the rights of the rest of the reptiles in\nIndian lore and talk. As Adi Sesha Seshn\u00e2g or Ananta, the n\u00e2g or cobra is a\nsacred eternal creature on whom the world rests. He is also a couch to\nVishnu, and the hoods of his thousand heads are clustered like the curls of\na breaking wave in a canopy over the form of the Creator. In rustic\nceremonies, survivals of the antique prime, before sowing or reaping, the\nvillage Brahman's first care is to find in which direction the great\nworld-supporting serpent is lying, while the peasants wait, awe-stricken,\nhalf fancying they hear the stir of his slow uncoiling. The beloved\nKrishna, too, India's cerulean Apollo, is often represented in modern\nbazaar pictures standing on the head of the great black snake he slew and\ndragged from the river Jumna. He bruised its head with victorious heel, but\nin the pictures he stands at ease, tranquilly blowing his pipe and attended\nby Lamia Gopis or milkmaids.\n\nThen there are still beliefs in serpent folk and serpent transformation,\nand legends and chronicles of dynasties of naga or cobra kings. The serpent\nof Scripture who \"was more subtle than any beast of the field which the\nLord God had made\" has perhaps conveyed to the minds of the\nnineteenth-century Europeans some notion of what snake legends may be like.\nBut it is no disparagement to the faith of Christians to say that in Europe\nthe Eden serpent is vague. When we do not (like Dr. Adam Clarke)\ninjuriously suspect him of being an ape, he serves mainly as a metaphor, a\nmere vehicle for the spirit of evil, and we are too far off to make out his\nscales, his flat triangular head, and his quick darting tongue. In India he\nis alive,--alive with swift powers of death, and always very near. In the\nroof thatch, the stone wall, the thorn fence, the prickly pear thicket, the\nwell-side, or coiled on the dusty field path, he waits his appointed hour\nto strike.\n\nHe takes part in a thousand tales of mystery and wonder, and is wiser and\nmore wicked than all the sons of men. There are several fabled Indian\njewels; that in the Elephant's brow, in the lotus of Buddhism, in the\nhead-dress of the princely Bodis\u00e1t or Buddha-to-be; but the jewel in the\ncobra's head evokes a livelier faith than the rest. It is not infected with\nthe serpent's guilt, but is an antidote to poison and a sure remedy for\npain. Fortune waits on its possessor, and he will never bear a heavy heart.\nBut it is not easily come by, for they say, \"A chaste woman's breasts, a\nserpent's jewel, a lion's mane, a brave man's sword, and a Brahman's money\nare not to be handled till they are dead.\"\n\nSerpent tales are too numerous to be told at length. In some, a young\nPrince accidentally swallows a snake which feeds on his vitals. Many\ninvolved turns of the story-teller's art follow after this beginning. In\none an anxious Princess, watching by her afflicted husband's side as they\nare journeying in search of health, sees the snake emerge from his mouth as\nhe lies asleep, and overhears a conference with another snake which guards\na treasure. They reveal the charms by which they may be subdued, and the\nPrincess restores her husband to health and gives him illimitable wealth.\nThis is also an old European superstition, for Gerald of Barri says that a\nyoung man, grievously afflicted by reason of having swallowed an adder,\nwent to all the shrines of England for relief in vain, but found at last\nhealth and peace in Ireland, where no snake may live. Physiologists could\ntell us what would really happen to a snakelet exposed to digestive\nprocesses. That snakes guard treasure is a modern Italian superstition.\n\nLamia stories are common. A peasant meets a lovely disconsolate woman in\nthe woods, brings her home, and makes her his wife. A holy man passes that\nway and repays his entertainment by instructing the peasant how to detect\nand destroy the monster woman snake.\n\nSo the now suspicious husband prepares for dinner a salt curry, having\npreviously broken the drinking water vessels. As he lies by her side,\npretending to sleep, her beautiful head rises from the pillow, the neck\nslowly, slowly lengthens, the forked tongue plays in feverish thirst as the\nserpent curves and twines round the hut seeking the door. Then, with\nsinuous stretch, it glides out and away, and he hears the lapping of water\non the distant river brink, while the fair body by his side is cold and\nstill. Then it returns, coil on coil shortening and settling noiselessly\ndown, until at last a lovely woman's head is laid on the pillow with a soft\nsigh of content. The next day, while his industrious and beautiful wife is\nbusy at the oven outside, the peasant thrusts her into its glowing depth\nand piles on wood till she is utterly consumed, even as the holy man\ninstructed him. In some varieties of the tale the _p\u00e2ras_, or philosopher's\nstone, which turns all it touches into gold, is found in the oven after the\nburning, and other adventures ensue.\n\nThe worship of the serpent may not everywhere survive in official form, and\nthere are, I believe, no temples entirely consecrated to N\u00e2gas, but it is\nstill practised as a domestic ordinance in Southern India, and everywhere\nthe true Hindu reverences the fateful creature that carries pure death in\nits fangs. _Sarpa homa_ is the name given to the somewhat elaborate\nceremony of snake-worship. But in everyday life, when the women of a\nhousehold hear a cobra chasing rats or mice in the ceiling or roof, they\nwill pause in their work and put their hands together in silent adoration.\n_N\u00e2g panchami_ is the serpents' f\u00eate-day--a holiday throughout India. In\nthe south models of the five-hooded cobra are made in terra-cotta, brass,\nor silver, so contrived that the centre coil forms a socket for a cup in\nwhich an offering of milk is put and the whole is worshipped.\n\nIn poetry it is easy to talk of a thousand heads; the sculptor and the\npainter content themselves with five, so modern folk say that in old days\nthe cobra had five heads, but in this iron age he has deteriorated. In\nCeylon, and possibly in the extreme south of India, the snake is often an\nalmost familiar member of the establishment, seen daily and regularly fed\nand worshipped. Nor is it wonderful that the cobra should be reverenced\nwhen his attributes are taken into account. He is the necklace of the Gods,\nhe can give gems to the poor, he is the guardian of priceless treasures, he\ncan change himself into manifold forms, he casts his skin annually and thus\nhas the gift of eternal youth, he can make milk, fruit, bread and all\ninnocent food stark death when he chooses to pass over them, he is of high\ncaste, he is in the confidence and counsel of Gods and demons, and when the\ngreat world was made he was already there.\n\nIn rustic life the serpent has peculiar reverence as the appointed guardian\nof the village cattle; in this capacity he is regarded as an incarnation of\nsome ancestor, and is generally named by a colour, as the Red, Black, or\nBlue snake, and becomes in a sort a tutelary divinity. Poisonous snakes\nkill scores of cattle, therefore they are in India accounted the natural\nprotectors of cattle.\n\nThe Government pays large sums annually for the destruction of poisonous\nsnakes, but it will be many a year before a respectable Hindu will\nwillingly kill one. This is not surprising when we reflect that an\nordinance not yet obsolete decrees that when a snake is killed the Hindu\nshall perform mourning ceremonies of a like ritual to those in honour of a\ndead relation. This, of course, is not often done, but the snake's skin is\nfrequently burned as an atonement to its outraged spirit. They call him\nRaj-bansi, royal scion, as an honourable name, and generally seek to\npropitiate as we to destroy the pest.\n\nA Financial Commissioner of the Punjab told me that once, when walking\nthrough fields with the son of a village Lambardar or head-man, he raised\nhis stick with the Englishman's instinct of killing a cobra crossing the\npath, but the young man laid a hand on his arm, saying: \"Nay, sir, do not\nstrike, the snake also has but one little life,\"--an unusual act, from\nwhich the lad's father would probably have refrained, partly in deference\nto a high officer of the Government, and partly from the Hindu habit of\nminding his own business and letting other people alone. But it shows the\ningrained respect for serpent life.\n\nIt is possible, however, to show mercy to many generations of serpents and\nyet to know little about them. When a snake has a musk-rat in his mouth he\nis considered to be in a terrible dilemma. If he swallows it he becomes\nblind, if he vomits it he becomes leprous. The way out of it is for him to\ngo into the water. I have never been able to understand the how or why of\nthis escape, but it is accepted as a triumph of serpent cunning. No need to\nsay that the snake, having swallowed the rat, brings the dislocated gearing\nof his jaws together and thinks no more about it, or that the musk-rat is\njust as welcome to him as any other.\n\nSayings which treat the snake as purely noxious may be guessed to be mainly\nMuhammadan, but the Hindu is not prevented by a sense of veneration from\nspeaking his mind, as the numerous gibes at Brahmans show. \"The snake moves\ncrookedly as a rule, but to his own hole he can go straight enough,\" is a\nreflection on a Brahman or a cunning and selfish person. \"In a council of\nsnakes tongues play fast,\" is a reproach to those who talk much and do\nlittle. The silent play of the serpent tongue, however, scarcely suggests\ntalk. \"Even the breath of a snake is bad\" is a common saying. I have\nnoticed an evil odour in the breath of a python, the only creature of the\nrace I have ventured to be intimate with, and it may be this is based on\nobservation.\n\n\"The gadding wife sees a snake in the roof of her own house\" is a wise word\nfor India, but inapt for England, where the customs of modern good society\nhave elevated gadding into a duty and a fine art and falsified the\nfolk-talk of ages. \"Kill the snake but do not break the stick,\" is sensible\nadvice often given to over-eager people; and to those who miss\nopportunities, \"The snake is gone, beat the line of his track.\" To\nappreciate this it should be remembered that over the greater part of India\nis a layer of dust on which the track left by a snake is plainly imprinted.\nThe hopelessness of snake-bite is acknowledged in \"Bitten by a snake, wants\nno water,\" _i.e._ will not live to drink it. The snake's bite goes in like\na needle but comes out like a ploughshare, is an expressive phrase used in\nBengal. A rhyming saying might be Englished \"After snake-bite sleep, after\nscorpion weep.\" In the first case the sleep of course is eternal. Of the\ndeadly little Kupper snake they say in Western India, \"Its bite begins with\ndeath.\" Another contrast with the relatively harmless scorpion is a saying\napplied to rash and foolish persons, \"Doesn't even know the spell for a\nscorpion, but must stick his finger in a snake's mouth.\" \"Even in a\ncompany of ten the serpent is safe,\" they are all so much afraid of it is\nthe inference. \"One serpent can frighten a whole army\" is an expansion of\nthe same notion. But there is something worse than even snake-bite: \"You\nmay survive the cobra's fang, but nothing avails against the evil eye,\"\nsays popular superstition.\n\nThere is a popular belief that to see a couple of snakes entwined together,\nas on the wand of Esculapius and the caduceus of Hermes in classic\nsculpture, is a most fortunate event. It is certainly rare, and a friend of\nmine who saw a pair of cobras thus engaged says this encurled dalliance is\na surprising and beautiful sight. A single cobra reared in act to strike\nstands high, but a pair twisted together and full of excitement rear up to\na great height. The heads with expanded hoods are in constant movement, and\nthe tongues play like forked lightnings. Then he fetched his gun and shot\nthem both dead. A Hindu would have folded his hands in adoration and\nconsidered himself made lucky for life by this auspicious sight.\n\nThe Secretary of State for India is anxious that more should be done by the\nIndian Government towards the extirpation of poisonous snakes and deadly\nwild animals. From the smooth pavements of London town the task doubtless\nappears easy. In reality nothing is more difficult, for in addition to the\nprotection of Nature is the no less powerful protection of superstitious\nrespect and deeply-rooted apathy on the part of the people. This last\nquality, by the way,--absolutely incomprehensible in Europe,--is an immense\nfactor in Indian affairs which Governments and eager reformers are apt to\noverlook.\n\nThe Indian Government has done its best, but is inclined to despair in the\nface of an increasing mortality in all Presidencies except Bombay, and is\nnow minded to recommend that the system of rewards for dead snakes should\nbe discontinued, and that increasing care should be given to the clearing\nof the scrub and jungle round villages. With a diminishing staff of English\ncivil officers it will probably be found as difficult to carry out this\nwise precaution as to provide for the improved sanitation which is the most\nurgent need of the time. Native subordinate officers are to be directed\nunder the orders of the Sanitary Board of each Province to destroy cover\nfor snakes near villages. But thorn-heaps, prickly pear thickets, jungle\ngrowth and clumps of tall sedge are as cherished traditions of the village\noutskirt as are the noisome ponds from which drinking water is drawn; and\nthere is not one Oriental in a thousand to whom they appear in their true\nlight as nurseries of vermin and disseminators of disease. Lord Lansdowne\nquoted at the opening of the Allahabad water-works a translation of a\nnative couplet,--\n\n    \"A confounded useless botheration\n    Is your brand new nuisance, sanitation--\"\n\nand expressed a hope that it was a libel on the more thoughtful and\nintelligent part of the community. But that is only a microscopic part,\nafter all. The average native hates sanitation as the devil hates holy\nwater, and worse.\n\nThe offer of rewards for dead snakes has naturally developed a new and\nremunerative industry--the rearing and breeding of snakes by out-caste\njungle folk; excepting, it would seem, in the Bombay Presidency, where\nlarge numbers are killed at a cheap rate, and where the death-rate from\nsnake-bite is decreasing. During the last eleven years Rs.237,000 (say\n\u00a320,000) have been spent on rewards for destroying snakes, and evidently to\nvery little purpose, for the mortality of man from snake-bite shows over\nthe greater part of India no diminution, but on the contrary is increasing.\n\nThe outlook is not in the least encouraging, nor can any one who really\nknows the country honestly hold forth a hope that the Government by any\nagency it can command will be able to tread out the deadly snake. The\npeople will not allow it for many a year to come.\n\nIt may be worth while to quote a few figures from the last Government\nreport on the subject. In the Bombay Presidency in 1889, 400,000 snakes\nwere killed and only 1000 human deaths from snake-bite were recorded. In\nthe Punjab, 68,500 snakes died; in Bengal, 41,000; in the North-West\nProvinces and Oudh (the greater part of Hindustan proper), less than\n26,000. In Bengal 10,680 persons are reported to have died from snake-bite,\nand in the North-West Provinces 6445. But not every death ascribed to the\nsnake is really caused by him. Many a murder and poisoning case is passed\noff as snake-bite, for the murderer is just as ingenious in India as\nelsewhere.\n\nThe creatures to which mortality is mainly due are the Cobra (_Naja\ntripudians_), the Krait (_Bungarus ceruleus_), Russell's Viper (_Daboia\nRussellii_), and the Echis (_Echis carinata_), to which may be added in\nWestern India the Kupper snake, and in Assam the Hamadryad (_Ophiophagus\nelaps_).\n\nSnake-bite seems likely to remain incurable until some more fortunate Dr.\nKoch of the future discovers a fluid which on injection will counteract the\nhorrible decomposition of the blood that snake-poison causes. In India\nthere are many antidotes in which the people put their trust, but probably\nall are worthless. A German Missionary recently claimed that a nostrum, to\nwhich he gave a pretty name from Persian poetry, was efficacious, but it\nseems to have been no better than the rest. The snake-stone,--a porous\npiece of calcined bone, pumice-stone, or something of that nature,--is the\nsheet-anchor of many, and in the year of grace 1890 an enlightened native\ngentleman of Hyderabad gave several hundred rupees for one. The theory is\nthat when the snake-stone is placed on the bitten part it adheres and\nswiftly extracts the poison, dropping off when the virus is absorbed. It is\nreasonable enough that any absorbent, even the lips of her \"who knew that\nlove can vanquish death,\" if applied promptly enough, may prevent a mortal\ndose of the poison from entering into the circulation; but once mixed with\nthe blood, all the snake-stones and quack nostrums in creation cannot avail\nto withdraw it. Yet even nonsense of this kind has its use. The Briton who\nspends thirteenpence-halfpenny on cholera pills and the Indian noble who\nspends a few thousand rupees on a snake-stone do not utterly throw away\ntheir money. They buy confidence and courage, most valuable commodities.\nThe hope that springs eternal in the human breast is the innocent first\ncause of the quack.\n\nOne of the unalterably fixed beliefs in the native mind is that the\nmongoose knows a remedy for snake-bite,--a plant which nobody has seen or\ncan identify, but which, when eaten, is an antidote so sure that the mere\nbreath of the animal suffices to paralyse the snake. The gem in the head of\nthe serpent itself is a no less potent remedy. No human being has seen that\ngem, but it must be there, since generations of Hindus have written and\ntalked of it. The mongoose has only its quickness of attack and its thick\nfur for safeguard, and once fairly bitten, goes the way of all flesh into\nwhich the deadly poison is poured. But no Oriental of high or low degree\nwill believe this, and you are made to feel like an infidel scoffing at\nserious things if you assert it.\n\nHaving thus incidentally met the mongoose or ichneumon, we may pause to say\na word on its tamability. Few wild animals take so readily to domestic life\nas the Indian mongoose, who has been known to domesticate himself among\nfriendly people; first coming into the house through the bath-water exit in\nchase of snake or rat, and ending, with a little encouragement, by stealing\ninto the master's chair and passing a pink inquisitive nose under his arm\nto examine a cup of tea held in his hand. This is the footing on which pets\nshould be maintained. A creature you put into a cage, or tie up with string\nor chain, is no pet, but a prisoner who cannot but hate his keeper.\n\nThere is one person of Indian birth to whom the sanctity of the cobra is a\njoke; a cynic who dallies with the crested worm, disarms him of death, and\nmakes him dance to the tune of a scrannel pipe; who breeds him for sale to\nGovernment officers, that he may receive the sixpence officially set on his\nbeautiful hood, and knows all his secret ways. The Indian snake-charmer of\nto-day is a juggler, and often a very skilful one. He belongs to a caste to\nwhich all things are pure and clean, and is, in consequence, more dirty\nthan all the rest, and yet he is not proud of his superiority to\nLevitically bonded souls.\n\nMost animals have their peculiar masters,--or servants. The horse owns an\nimposing retinue of princes, nobles, soldiers, and grooms all over the\nworld, to say nothing of the slaves of the betting ring; the cow and the\nox have an humbler following; a peculiar public is devoted to the dog;\nelephants and camels have their body-servants and _attach\u00e9s_; in Europe\neven the rat has an incubus who lives scantily on his murder; but it is\nonly in India that the reptile under the rock has retainers. There are\nsnake, lizard, and crocodile eaters, and those who, with no assumed madness\nlike that of Edgar in _King Lear_,--\"eat the swimming frog, the toad, the\ntadpole, the wall-newt and the water; ... swallow the old rat and the\nditch-dog; drink the green mantle of the standing pool; who are whipped\nfrom tithing to tithing, and stock-punished, and imprisoned.\" In our days,\nhowever, the scorn and oppression of the upper classes fall lightly on\nthese out-castes, although, according to the most admired code of Menu,\ntheir life is worth less than that of the creatures they devour. From one\nof these numerous clans comes the snake-charmer. One would like to believe\nthat he exercises a special occult influence over his snakes, but, like the\nmongoose, he owns no more than his nimbleness, possesses no charm more\npotent than knowledge of his subject, and it is to be feared that he can\nonly draw that snake out of its hole which but now was secretly put by his\nown hand. A fair theosophist, describing the conditions under which the\nearly miracles of her curious creed were wrought, declared in print that\nfor their due performance it was necessary that the miracle-workers should\n\"know the place and have been there, the more recently the better.\" If this\nis true of discovered brooches, broken tea-cups, or cigarette papers, it is\nalso true of cobras. All the snake-charmer asks is to know the place and to\nhave been there recently, and you shall have your snake without fail.\n\n[Illustration: A SNAKE-CHARMER]\n\nBut there are theosophists who declare that in watching a snake-charmer's\ntricks we are witnessing manifestations of occult mysteries. \"Then is the\nmoon of ripe, green cheese compact.\" Yet is he connected with the Gods by\none article of his equipment. The _dauru_, a small, hour-glass-shaped\ndrum-rattle of fearsome noisiness (drawn in the fore-front of my sketch),\nis the badge of all his vagrant tribe, and also of the great God Siva, who\nbears it slung on his trident in many pictures, and will one day rattle it\nfuriously to usher in the destruction of the world, which will be set afire\nby the flame of the midmost of his three eyes.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe amphisb\u00e6na, because it appears to have two butt ends, is believed by\nsome to have a head at each, while others, with a scientific turn, say that\nfor six months its head is at one end and for other six at the other. And\nit is universally known as the _do m\u00fbnhia_--two-faced one. The delightful\nSir Thomas Browne seems, in his _Vulgar Errors_, inclined to accept this\ndouble-headed serpent, but at last he \"craves leave to doubt.\" The era of\ndoubt is not yet reached in India.\n\nThe large lizard, _varanus drac\u00e6na_, which is perfectly innocuous, like all\nIndian lizards, is called the bis-cobra by some, though the name really\nbelongs, according to others, to a different creature, and is counted\nhighly dangerous, while it is believed to be so strong that Sivaji, the\nrenowned Marathi chief, escaped from a fortress wherein he was confined by\nbeing dragged up the wall by one of these creatures, and some say they are\nhabitually used by burglars for this purpose. I used to keep one of these\nharmless animals, and even while holding it in one hand I have been assured\nby natives of its vast strength and deadliness. The cry of the small house\nlizard, a kind of gecko, is unlucky in certain conditions. In Southern\nIndia, where lizards are numerous and are perpetually falling from the\nthatched roofs, there is a marvellously elaborate code of omens drawn from\nthe varying circumstances, the parts of the body, house utensils, etc.,\nupon which they drop. Less attention seems to be paid to lizards in the\nNorth, but even there they say, \"A lizard has fallen on you, go and bathe.\"\n\nCrocodiles are occasionally regarded as sacred, one cannot say kept and\nperiodically fed. _Muggur pir_ near Karachi is a pond full of these\ncreatures, which are often fed for the amusement of visitors. There is a\nlegend of a British officer who crossed this pool, using its inhabitants as\nstepping-stones in his daring passage. In some of the lakes in Rajputana\nthey are cherished and come to the Brahman's call; not one may be visible\nat first, but there is first a ripple, then a slow, hideous head protrudes,\nthen another, till the water is alive with crocodiles.\n\nSome out-caste river-side tribes are in the habit of eating tortoises and\ncrocodiles. Of one of these castes a current Punjab gibe says the crocodile\ncan smell a Mor when he passes on the river bank, and truly no very\ndelicate nose is necessary for this feat.\n\nGeneral Sir Alex. Cunningham has identified ancient sculptured\nrepresentations of the tortoise as meant to indicate the river Jumna--an\nascription of which modern Hinduism takes no account. Describing sculptures\nat Udayagiri he writes: \"The figures of the Ganges and Jumna are known by\nthe symbolic animals on which they stand--the crocodile and the tortoise.\nThese two representative animals are singularly appropriate, as the Ganges\nswarms with crocodiles, and the Jumna teems with tortoises. The crocodile\nis the well-known _v\u00e2han_ or vehicle on which the figure of the Ganges is\nusually represented; but the identification of the tortoise as the _v\u00e2han_\nof the Jumna, though probable, was not certain until I found, amongst the\nCharonsat Jogini statues in the Bhera Gh\u00e2t temple, a female figure with a\ntortoise on the pedestal and the name of Sri Yamuna inscribed beneath.\"\nMuch graceful and significant symbolism of this nature seems to have been\ndropped in recent times, and a tortoise is now a tortoise and no more. In a\nHindu temple at Volkeshwar, Bombay, they were kept and worshipped within\nthe last thirty years, perhaps even now. They say of low-born people that\n\"their words are like a tortoise's head,\" to be put forth or withdrawn\naccording to circumstances. But no saying reflects on the infamous tyranny\nof ages that has made the low-caste man a timid time-server and a sneak.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nOF ANIMALS IN INDIAN ART\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nMore has been said and written on Indian art than is justified by a right\nappreciation of its qualities and defects. In architecture alone can it be\nsaid to claim the highest distinction. The plastic art of the country at\nits best was inferior to that of other lands, and the spirit of its\nartistic prime has been dead for centuries. Among the Indian collections in\nEuropean museums we see casts and photographs of ancient buildings side by\nside with representations of the life and customs of to-day, nor is it\nuntil we have lived in India and carefully sought out the truth that we\nlearn how dead the characteristic art of a vivid faith and life may be\nwhile the faith still lingers and the outward aspect of the life is but\nslightly changed. There is a considerable distance between the art of an\nItalian town of to-day and that of the Augustan age, but a still greater\ngulf between that of a modern Hindu and the Sanchi topes, the Gandh\u0101ra and\nAmravati sculptures. But the Italian himself has changed far more than the\nHindu. In India the ancient sculptures are still alive and walk the\nstreets, while if you confront a group of modern Italians with the\npersonages on a Roman sarcophagus you see at a glance that the marble has\nbut little concern with the living man. This persistence of certain\nelements of Indian life has led some writers to attribute immutability to\nall. To those who know the country it is obvious, on a little reflection,\nthat artistic India is just as liable to change as the rest of the world,\nand that in fact there is no country where foreign influences have been\nmore actively at work. To some it is unnecessary to hint truisms of this\nkind, but in Europe it seems to be believed that the Indian people of\nto-day have the same artistic endowments and should be required to practise\nthe same style of art as their long-forgotten ancestors.\n\nBut though it would be pleasant to plough the infertile sands of art\ncriticism (on whose Indian horizons there are some brave mirages), we have\nour own row to hoe, and must turn from dreams of what might or ought to be\nto that which has been and is in our narrow field.\n\nA comparison of the figures of animals shown on the Sanchi topes and in the\nAjanta Caves with those of a modern Indian draughtsman shows at once how\nmuch difference there is between then and now. The work of the ancient\nHindu painter and sculptor is full of life and variety. Monkeys and\nelephants are always good, while buffaloes come next for truth and\nnaturalness. Lions, tigers, peacocks and swans are conventionalised\naccording to a somewhat restricting but still consistent decorative canon\nwith great propriety and admirable effect. Nothing can exceed the freedom\nand facility with which elephants are drawn and painted in the Ajanta Cave\nfrescoes, in every conceivable action. The wonderful suppleness and\nacrobatic capabilities of the beast have never since been so skilfully\nindicated. Sir Emerson Tennent's book on Ceylon has pictures of bound\nelephants wildly struggling after capture, but they give an impression of\ncontortion rather than of the india-rubber litheness of the animal in\naction. In Europe generally, the mere bulk of the beast is all that is\nrepresented, for the old notion that \"the elephant hath joints, but none\nfor courtesy; his legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure\" still\nsurvives to some extent. The ancient Hindu artist saw this also, and there\nare striking representations of the creatures standing like monumental\nmounds among the forest trees.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn old Hindu temples as at Hallibeed and Khajuraho, friezes of sculptured\nanimals occur in regular sequence. Near the base of the building are\nelephants, then lions or tigers, over these horses, then cows, then men,\nand lastly, winged creatures. (In India people habitually talk of \"winged\nthings\" for birds, a proof, it may be, that more flying creatures than\nbirds are believed in.) The sequence indicates an elemental scheme in which\nHindus see more than strikes a European observer. The elephant supports the\nworld, lions and tigers inhabit the jungles of it, the horse is a tamed\nwild creature, and the cow, next to man, is his benefactor and half a\ndivinity, while the bird courses fly above his head, parrots first, and\nthen swans. The swan (or wild goose) is an accepted image of the soul,\nhence its high honour among Hindus, although Brahma, with whom it is\nofficially associated, is no longer an object of popular worship. It is not\nthe tame goose however, that is meant, but the flying wild fowl seen far\naloft winging its way to some distant and unknown bourne. A Hindu saying\ngoes, \"The swan (the soul) flies away and none can go with it.\" A Western\npoet has well expressed the sense of solitary flight with definite aim\nthrough--\n\n    \"The desert and illimitable air,--\n        Lone wandering, but not lost.\"\n\nAnd it is natural that the piety of Hindus should crystallise in its own\nfashion the thought in Bryant's mind when he wrote--\n\n              \"He who from zone to zone,\n    Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,\n    In the long way that I must tread alone,\n              Will lead my steps aright.\"\n\nSo we are presented with the under world, the earth, the air, and a hint of\nthe distant heaven beyond all.\n\nSome Hindus insist that this sequence is invariable. In purely Hindu\ncountries this may be the case, but in regions where contact with Isl\u00e1m and\nother influences have modified Hinduism it is not followed, and indeed is\nalmost unknown. The elephant's place at the base is a post of honour, but\nhe ascends also, and is shown in pairs with uplifted trunks pouring waters\nof lustration over the adorable Lakshmi or Saraswati, Goddess of learning,\nfrom sacrificial vases. Nothing could be more spirited and natural than the\nelephant sculptures, while the friezes above them are merely decorative and\nno more like life than are the leopards and wyverns of European heraldry.\nThe birds have superb tails of fretted foliage faintly recalling some\ndetails of late Gothic sculpture. In an architectural sense nothing is lost\nby the want of veracity, but it is curious that the elephant should be\ntreated with so much feeling for nature, while the equally familiar horse\nand ox are always wooden in character.\n\n[Illustration: MODERN ELEPHANT SCULPTURE, FROM THE TOMB OF SOWAI JAI SINGH,\nMAHARAJA OF JEYPORE]\n\nOn the face of the rock-hewn Buddhist temple at Karli, on the Western\nGhauts, three elephants affront the spectator, and support the hillside\nrock on each side of the entrance, with a calm air of competence for their\ntask. In gold, silver, brass, ivory, clay, and wood, elephants serve a\nhundred purposes, and are drawn and painted everywhere. In such modern work\nas the tomb of Maharaja Jai Singh at Jeypore, where every detail is treated\nin a conventional way, and the creature's ears are fluted as regularly as\nscallop shells, there is still a strong sense of his shape and action. A\nsmall pen sketch here given may show this. Centuries had closed down on the\nancient freedom, and the Muhammadan canon forbidding the representation of\nlife, though never thoroughly accepted in India, had repressed the plastic\ninstinct. You may hear, when going over palaces in Rajputana, of elaborate\ncarvings in stone, which on a threatening hint from the iconoclastic court\nat Delhi, were hastily covered up with plaster. In other parts of India\nrecent research has unearthed remains of richly-carved Hindu work,\nsometimes lying in heaps of broken fragments and bearing traces of fire.\nBut though you expel nature with a pitchfork or shut it up like a\njack-in-the-box, it is not to be wholly repressed. Even the Muhammadans\nthemselves do not always obey the law; the Persian Shiahs have never\nconsidered themselves bound by it, and modern Indian art is mainly Persian.\n\n[Illustration: BORAK. CALIGRAPHIC PICTURE COMPOSED OF PRAYERS]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFor pious Muhammadans it has long been a practice of Oriental penmen, who\nare often artists, to weave the fine forms of Persian letters into the\noutlines of animals or birds. I give an example of the Prophet's mystic\nhorse, Borak, which contains a whole litany of prayers. An elephant on the\ncover, a tiger on the dedicatory page, and the birds over the monogram of\nthe publishers of this book, are also woven in words of prayer. Every\ncreature alive can be thus represented, and the piety of the inscription\ncovers the profanity of the picture. Muhammadanism, like more religions, is\nfull of ingenious little compromises and transactions after this kind. A\nmore frank defiance of the laws by which at the supreme moments of their\nlives they profess themselves bound, is characteristic of Christians--\n\n    \"Whose life laughs through and spits at their creed!\n    Who maintain Thee in word, and defy Thee in deed!\"\n\nA curiosity of the time is the way in which those who now follow the craft\nof the Persian limner and often boast Persian descent, have adopted Hindu\nnotions in their work, though still remaining Muhammadan. Some of the best\nrepresentations in the popular lithographs sold at fairs of the many-armed\nHindu divinities are the work of Muhammadan draughtsmen. So in the time of\nthe Mogul power the Court chroniclers were often Hindus who complacently\nwrote of the pillage and wreck of the temples of their own faith as\ntriumphs over idolatrous infidels and officially lauded the deeds of\nMuhammadans in phrases of unctuous insincerity.\n\nAn official illuminator is attached to most native courts, an artist whose\npride it is to work with \"a brush of one hair,\" and to repeat carefully the\ntypes he has learned. There is a complete series of portraits of all the\ndynasties that have ruled at Delhi, Agra, and Lucknow. The persistence of\nthe types is curious and interesting. The long nose of the Emperor\nAurengzebe and the round face of N\u016br Mahal are as familiar and constant as\nthe characteristic features of Lord Brougham or Lord Beaconsfield in\nvolumes of _Punch_. The English gentleman and lady were learned a hundred\nyears ago in high-collared coats, tight pantaloons, frilled shirt-fronts,\ngigot sleeves, and high-waisted, short frocks. To-day in drawing English\npeople the same pattern is faithfully followed. Animals are similarly\nsketched in obedience to a strict convention. The tiger is almost\ninvariably of the short-bodied variety. This occurs in India at times, but\nis much less common than the Bengal tiger proper. In the Kensington Natural\nHistory Museum I recognised on a shelf the tiger of the Indian illuminator,\nand shortly afterwards met Colonel Beresford Lovett, R.E., by whom it was\npresented, who told me that he shot it in Mazanderan, in Persia. Perhaps it\nis rash to jump to the conclusion that the Persian artist imported his\npeculiar beast into a land with tigers of its own, but it is certain that\nthe squareness of the Indian limner's tiger is entirely unlike the typical\nshape of the Indian animal.\n\nThe horse is always fat, with a tremendously arched neck and slender legs,\nresembling, as has been noted in another place, the horse of the painters\nof the European Renaissance; but lacking his learned display of loaded\nmuscle. In Dr. Aitkin and Mrs. Barbauld's delightful _Evenings at Home_, a\nboy attempts a definition of the horse which has always seemed to me to\nembody very fairly the vague Oriental conception: \"I should say he was a\nfine, large, prancing creature with slender legs and an arched neck, and a\nsleek, smooth skin, and a tail that sweeps the ground, and that he snorts\nand neighs very loud, and tosses his head and runs as swift as the wind.\"\nHerein, as the instructive book points out, are very few of the vital facts\nof the animal, but they have sufficed without much help from actual\nobservation for many generations of Orientals. Carven horses are rare and\nseldom successful either as ornamental creations or as representations of\nnature.\n\nThe native of India is but now beginning to learn to care for accurate\nstatements of fact, whether in a literary, scientific, or artistic sense.\nThe Education Department, which, after all, is only the stress of the time\nbrought to a point, and represents the will of the upper classes of the\npeople as much as that of their British fellow-subjects, is determined that\nthis reproach shall be removed, and imports the illustrated lesson-books\nand wall-pictures of Western schools. In all that concerns the well-being\nof animals and people, improved knowledge cannot but do good, but the\nextinction of the pictured horses of romance, the pursy steeds of Sohrab\nand Rustom, of the legendary Raja Ras\u00e1lu and the fat chargers of many a\nHindu Maharaja and Muhammadan Nawab will not be accomplished without\nregrets. With them will perish the Persian winged horses which have become\nnaturalised among Indian draughtsmen, and there will be no place for the\nY\u0101lis and other fantastic creations in which horse forms are traceable.\nS\u016brya, the sun-god, is always represented in a chariot drawn by horses,\ninvariably in profile: one horse being completely drawn and a long row\nindicated behind with a few repeating lines. Very admirable design is\npossible under these conditions, but few modern pictures of the Indian\nPh\u0153bus are admirable either in suggestion or accomplishment.\n\nOn a very humble level are the little animals made in clay by the women of\na household and often by potters for certain Hindu anniversaries. I write\n\"humble\" mechanically, but it must be said in fairness that the rustic\nclasses in Europe do not produce for their amusement anything so good. We\nonce had an elderly servant of serious demeanour, respectable appearance,\nfirst-rate testimonials as to character, and hopeless incapacity for his\nwork. One evening, with all the shyness of a youthful artist, he invited me\nto see a little \"picture\" he had prepared in the court of the servants'\nquarters. I was delighted by a charming model of a fort with walls and\nbastions complete, in which there were camel-riders, dragoons, generals,\ncolonels, and Rajas, all modelled in clay and painted; little lamps were\nlighted round the mimic scene, the children sat gazing in rapt admiration,\nand from the dark background of the yard sympathetic murmurs echoed my\nwords of praise. The \"bearer's\" triumph was complete when his mistresses\ncame to see and admire, but if he had been very wise he would have been\ncontent with the master's approval. For during the rest of the time he\nafflicted us I was often reminded that he had missed his vocation, and\nwould be better employed in modelling soldiers, elephants, and camels,\nwhich he did well, than in trimming lamps, making beds, dusting furniture,\nand blacking boots in a half-hearted and wholly inartistic manner.\n\nFigures of horses and cattle like the gingerbread \"gee-gees\" of country\nfairs in Europe, are all that are strictly required for these rustic\ncelebrations, which are probably of great antiquity, representing the\nworship of domestic animals as part of the family prosperity in a pristine\nage, or the setting forth of the army of Rama, with an interweaving of\nobscure legends. But when the artist is clever the subject is naturally\nexpanded and embroidered upon. When you see Mr. H. M. Stanley paraded as\nGuy Fawkes in London streets it is easy to understand how, with themes of a\nfar more vague and shadowy character, Oriental fancy has free play.\n\n[Illustration: SMALL WARES IN METAL]\n\nA regular part of the potter's business in many regions is the fashioning\nof toy animals in terra-cotta, gaily painted by his women folk for fairs\nand festival days. At Delhi, by way of compliment to the chief civil\nauthority, the potters there have at times made small statuettes of the\nCommissioner and Deputy-Commissioner. These portraits were often amusingly\nlike the originals. There is a legend indeed, that one distinguished\nofficer was so much more than flattered by his clay images that he bought\nup the whole baking to be broken up. Fantail pigeons, peacocks, parrots,\nand the generic bird of Indian domestic decoration, akin to the\n\"dicky-bird\" of the British child's slate, are made as toys in great\nnumbers. Crows and poultry seldom appear.\n\nBirds and animals are often fashioned in metal, and always with purely\ndecorative intent. The resolute conventionalism of the Indian artisan is\nshown in the silver mouse from Muttra here sketched with half a dozen small\nwares, and in the brass owl from Bengal. The parrot and the peacock are old\nand constant types, but the brass bison is the work of a jungle artist, who\nfrom direct observation has learned that a bison's horns meet and join over\nits brow. And there his lesson ended.\n\n[Illustration: BIRDS BY AN INDIAN DRAUGHTSMAN]\n\nA Muhammadan artist who is skilful in Hindu mythology and produces many\nlithographs and illustrations, has been kind enough to sketch for me half a\ndozen birds as they are rendered to-day--a peacock, a pigeon, a heron, a\npartridge, a parrot, and a bird which he describes by the word we use for\nwild duck, but which is evidently a water-fowl of another kind. In coloured\nwork the forms would be carefully filled up and finished, but the outline\nwould remain the same, and speaks here for itself. All are _yek\nchashm_,--one-eyed,--the Persian draughtsman's idiom for in profile. A\nfull face picture is _do chashm_, two-eyed; but birds are never shown full\nfront. In illuminations for poems and romances the yellow mango bird, the\nhoopoe, and the maina are occasionally shown, but the distinctive\ndifferences lie more in the colouring than in the form. A pair of cranes\nstands as in Chinese and Japanese pictures (_e.g._ the willow pattern\nplate) for an emblem of the souls of lovers. A pair of Brahminy ducks\nsporting in the water, or a pair of pigeons, serves the same purpose. The\nbird of ancient myth, _Garuda_, whose name in Southern India is given to\nthe common kite, is a Hindu conventionalisation of aquiline forms from\nwhich eagle character is usually omitted. In bazaar prints he carries three\nor four elephants as he flies or serves as a steed to Vishnu in one of his\nforms, and sometimes he appears as half man half bird. He is borne in the\narms of the Maharaja of Mysore, with whom in heraldic guise is associated\nthe Yali, the strange, horse-like beast that is carved as a ramping corbel\nor truss on some of the Hindu temples in Southern India.\n\n[Illustration: A PERI ON A CAMEL]\n\nThe name Shikargah (hunting pattern) is given to a diaper or border of\nantelopes, tigers, and horsemen often combined with foliage. In old work\nthe designs are often beautiful, as on the margins and backs of Persian\nMSS., in embroidery, carpets, metal-chasing, and decorative painting.\nModern commerce does not encourage this kind of art, but there are still\nartists capable of good work.\n\n[Illustration: KRISHNA ON AN ELEPHANT]\n\n[Illustration: KRISHNA ON A HORSE]\n\nA fantastic but very popular device is to fill up the outline of an animal\nwith a jumble of various creatures. Three examples are here given from the\nbrush of Bhai Isur Singh, a Sikh designer. Trivialities of this nature\nscarcely bear description, and, like many more Oriental fancies, are safe\nfrom serious criticism. In one a peri rides on a camel compounded of men\nand beasts. In another, Krishna playing his pipe, is borne on an elephant\nmade up of adoring Gopis in the guise of modern dancing women. In the third\nthe god holds a lotus flower, and his adorers are arranged as a horse.\n\n[Illustration: NANDI OR SACRED BULL]\n\nWhen one considers the sacred character of the cow and bull, and the\nestimation in which they are held, it is wonderful that cattle forms are\nusually so vaguely seen by Hindu artists. There are thousands of carved\nstone bulls in the courts of the temples of Mahadeo, and hundreds of\nthousands of brazen bulls in domestic shrines, and all might own direct\ndescent from the golden calf of Moses (which must have been a piece of\nhalf-learned Egyptian conventionalism), so fixed and negligent of nature is\nthe type. That Hindu artists can see nature clearly at times, is proved by\nthose who practise the modern new craft of modelling figurines in\nterra-cotta for sale to Europeans. At Lucknow in Oudh, and at Kishnagar in\nBengal, cattle are often skilfully rendered in clay. But draughtsmen and\npainters as a rule keep faithfully to the hieratic type of the\nstone-cutters, who never make preliminary models. The Jeypore\nmarble-workers, who turn out a large quantity of animal statuettes, excel\nin buffaloes in black marble, but since the main of their practice is the\nsupply of images for temples, they adhere to the conventional form for\nBrahminy cows and bulls.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSir George C. M. Birdwood has kindly lent me from his collection a coloured\npicture of Krishna and other personages attended, as usual, by cows. A\ngroup of cattle from the foreground of this composition is here engraved,\nand shows an unusual feeling for nature. The popular ideal, which is the\nhieratic, is shown more truly in the picture broadsides illustrating\ncountry romances, and sold at fairs for a pice each. The muzzle is clumsy\nand bulbous, the brow is round, the shortness of the body is exaggerated,\nthe dewlap is almost ignored or shown by conventional flutings, the clean,\nthoroughbred legs are made thick and shapeless, while the form of the hump\nis seldom truly seen.\n\n[Illustration: CATTLE BY AN INDIAN ARTIST]\n\nIt is curious that a cow's head, carved separately as an ornament, is\nseldom seen in old Indian work and never in that of to-day. Much as he\nloves the cow, a Hindu of the old rock would prefer not to drink from a\nfountain where the water issued from a carved cow's head,--the first idea\nto strike an English sculptor as \"neat and appropriate.\" The head of the\nelephant is frequently used in ornament, that of the horse is a favourite\nold Rajput dagger pommel in jade and silver, and tigers' and lions' heads\nare plentiful, but never that of the cow. A steel _garz_ or mace with a\nhorned head, occasionally seen in collections of Indian arms, is really\nPersian, and represents one of their many fabulous beasts. The reason of\nthis exclusion is that technically the cow's mouth is impure. A horse may\ndrink from a vessel and, after the usual sacramental scrub with earth, it\nis no worse for family use, but a cow defiles anything it touches with its\nmouth.\n\nOutcastes seldom find their way into pictures, so one of the most important\nsubjects of the Western animal painter is lost to the Oriental limner, for\ndogs are not respectable enough to be drawn. The story of Yudhishtira and\nhis dog, already mentioned, offers a good subject for illustration, but\nthough the legend is known to educated Hindus, its hero has for centuries\nceased to be popular and there are no pictures of him to be found. In\nillustrations to the popular romance of Leila and Majn\u016bn a dog accompanies\nthe lady, while a parrot perches on the gaunt shoulder of the passion-worn\nMajn\u016bn. A dog, a staff, and a bottle are the attributes of the black\nBhairon, most popular of Hindu divinities. Perhaps the science of\ndog-breeding or appreciation of the variety of canine races has been\ndeveloped since St. Roch was canonised. At all events, the same casteless\nmongrel that waits on this holy man in Continental churches attends on\nBhairon and runs after antelopes and tigers in such popular Indian\nromances as Raja Ras\u00e1lu. The Greeks knew more and better, for they loved\nand classified their dogs, and sculptured them with discrimination of\nbreed.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe _Illustrated London News_ and the _Graphic_ are foremost in an\neducational movement unnoted by many observers. In quite out-of-the-way\nplaces as well as in the large towns you may see the narrow wall spaces of\nthe shops covered with their pictures, among coloured German lithographs\nand native prints. Portraits of the Queen and the Royal Family, pictures of\nthe Oxford and Cambridge boat-race, of winners of the Derby, of prize\ncattle, of the buxom British infant and types of Western beauty, are stuck\nside by side with the blue Krishna and the black Kali, and nobody sees any\nincongruity. Some say that European picture papers are fraught with peril\nfor the Indian artist. There is, however, no possibility of keeping them\nout of the country, so we must be content to wait for a generation or two\nbefore we can judge of their evil effects. Meanwhile, it is only fair to\nsay in anticipation that races who for centuries have known how to accept\nand assimilate a long series of foreign importations and yet to maintain\ntheir own individuality of character may be trusted to deal even with the\n_Illustrated London News_ and the _Graphic_.\n\nThe boar in art occurs only in a form so highly conventionalised as to be\nalmost unrecognisable, in representations of the Boar _avatar_. There is a\nsuperb boar of colossal size at Khajuraho, carved in stone and completely\ncovered over with row upon row of human figures in relief. It has never\noccurred to a Hindu to draw a pig for its own sake, while a Muhammadan\nwould scorn to look at a pig picture.\n\nIn consequence of the popularity of the Monkey-god, Hanum\u0101n, the whole\ntribe has fared well at the hands of the Indian painter. He scarcely ever\noccurs in ancient carved work, and the sculptures of to-day are horribly\nrude, but in many pictures there is a first-rate appreciation of monkey\ncharacter. In a MS. R\u0101m\u0101yana in the Lahore Museum a pair of monkeys are\nshown drinking from a stream, and drawn with wonderful delicacy and\nnaturalness. In the Ajanta frescoes there are some well-painted monkeys.\nEven in the much conventionalised representations of Hanum\u0101n, drawn for the\npoorest classes, there is often a quaint humour and observation, surprising\nto those who accept the common fallacy that the people of India are\ndestitute of humour. That representations of the Monkey-god have long been\nadmired is clear from the mention of his picture on Arjuna's banner in the\nancient Hindu Epic. Rajput chivalry still bears a red Hanum\u0101n on the \"five\ncoloured\" flags peculiar to the race.\n\nOne of the futile works of patience which so often take rank as works of\nIndian Art is a picture of Hanum\u0101n, composed of thousands of repetitions of\nthe sacred name Ram. You draw the Monkey-god in pencil and then write Ram\nall along the lines in minute Hindi characters. Ram, ram, is a common\nsalutation among Hindus, and mere repetition of the word is a sacrament.\nAll sacraments mean more than meets the eye or ear, so we need not find\nanything absurd in the case of a Hindu personage who, by a curse of the\nGods, was condemned to forego the use of the life-giving word. But he was\npermitted to say Mra, mra. This relieved his despairing soul, for, saying\nit quickly for an hour at a time, the most vindictive God or demon alive\ncould hear only Ram, ram.\n\n[Illustration: A PUNJAB HEROINE (FROM AN INDIAN LITHOGRAPH)]\n\nBears took part in the wars of the Gods, and in consequence are sketched\nwith some freedom. A heroine of Punjab romance in more recent times is\ncredited with marvellous exploits in hunting, and a bazaar print,\nreproduced here in little, gives a favourable idea both of the state of\npopular art in its humblest form and of the kind of legend in which the\nmasses still delight. Whatever may be thought of the tigers in the upper\npanel, there is good bear character in the lower, and, as a large sheet\nbearing four such pictures is sold for a halfpenny, criticism ought to be\ndisarmed. The gains of the artists employed on this kind of work are not\nlarge. I remember a friend of mine criticising with some asperity the\ncareless drawing in a full-page cartoon of a vernacular comic paper. The\ndraughtsman took it in good part and listened humbly, but when some of the\nlaborious triumphs of Persian art were brandished before him, he mildly\nremarked that it was not easy to produce masterpieces at the rate of\nfivepence per picture, which was all that his Editor allowed.\n\nIn Indian Art, as in Indian talk, the only use made of the Ass is to point\na curse withal. \"Cursed be he that removeth his neighbour's landmark,\" said\nthe Jews, but the Hindus inscribed their commination, a nameless, shameless\nhorror, on the stone landmark itself. Several of these grotesque\nabominations now lie in Bombay Town Hall.\n\n[Illustration: ANTELOPES. AN INDIAN ARTIST'S FANTASY]\n\n[Illustration: BUFFALO BULLS]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nOF BEAST FIGHTS\n\n\nAll nature fights. We are nowadays familiar with false phrases such as\n\"unnatural strife\" and the like, used in denunciation of one of the central\ninstincts of life, but at heart we acknowledge that war is always natural\nto man and beast. The next best thing to fighting is to see others fight,\nsays the experience of the world, and India has travelled a well-worn track\nin its enjoyment of fighting as a spectacle. English readers are already\nfamiliar with accounts of the gladiatorial displays and beast fights of the\nEmperor Akbar and of the Nawab Hyder Ali and Tippoo Sahib. There are many\nallusions in popular sayings and legends, and in the chronicles of native\nstates, to wager fights between man and man, man and beast, and beast and\nbeast, which show how popular and widespread the practice was. In a\ncomparison between the arenas of old Rome and those of India the latter\nwould come poorly off by reason of the inferiority of Orientals in the\nfaculty of organisation, but in spite of details left to chance and an\nimperfect _mise en sc\u00e8ne_, the Indian shows had much in common with the\nRoman displays, and the spirit and intention were the same. Wild animals\nare easily obtained here, and both Princes and people are greedy of\nsensations, so that it is natural that an arena for beast fights should\nbecome a regular appanage of a princely court. Lut'f'ullah in his\ninteresting autobiography describes the populace of Baroda regularly\nspending its large leisure in the well-known animal yard there, and its\nwondering interest in the rhinoceros, familiarly known as the \"_janwar_,\"\n_the_ beast _par excellence_. These arenas are still haunted by the people,\nand will probably change gradually into Zoological gardens, but there can\nbe no doubt that the beast fight is popular to-day. You may call it brutal\nif you please, and organise a brand new society for its suppression, but it\nshould be remembered that only yesterday the populations of whole towns\n(like Birmingham) swarmed to the British bull-ring, and that nature herself\nset the fashion.\n\nThere are indeed beast fights, promoted by men, which are simply\ndevelopments of the beneficent principle described by modern science as the\nsurvival of the fittest. Of these are the spring-time buffalo bull fights\ntreated as solemnities by Indian herdsmen. Once diversions of the pastoral\nprime, these conflicts are still annually brought off, even in Bombay,\nwithin sight of railways and telegraph posts. The men say--and doubtless\nwith truth--that they are useful in showing decisively which animal is best\nfitted to be a sire. Such fights are not always brought about by the\nherdsmen. One of the most impressive pictures of defeat I ever saw was one\nevening on a lonely road in the Western Ghauts, when a buffalo bull\nsuddenly appeared against the sunset in labouring flight, rolling as he\nstaggered along like a rudderless ship, his mouth and nostrils foaming, a\nhorn broken, and his black flanks stained with blood. A long way behind him\ncame the conqueror, bearing marks of the fight, but lumbering easily\nforward, half minded to stop; content that his foe was beaten and flying.\n\nSportsmen in pursuit of the black-buck antelope have occasionally seen a\npair of these beautiful creatures so fiercely engaged in fighting as to\ntake no notice of the intruder with a gun, and the skulls of deer with\nhorns firmly interlocked have often been found as proofs of a fatal\nstruggle.\n\nWhether it is wrong to pit men against beasts, or to employ the natural,\nnoble rage of male animals for conquest to make a holiday for a populace,\nare questions that may be easily answered, but the reprobation to be meted\nfor the offence depends in some measure upon one's standpoint. From that of\ncivilised Europe nothing could be more reprehensible, but it is not the\npopulace of Europe that gives this answer; else why does the Midland or\nNorthern mechanic lose a day's wage for a dog-fight, why are there bull\nfights in Spain, imitations of them in Paris, and everywhere an inclination\nto enjoy similar spectacles which breaks through the illusory crust we\ndescribe as civilisation and progress? In India, also, you may find\nthousands who would agree with the humanitarians of the West, but they keep\ntheir moral teaching for their own caste-fellows, and do not incline to\ndamn the sins they have no mind to. In other words, though the natives of\nIndia are, as a mass, indifferent to the sufferings of creatures, it is\ndoubtful whether they are intrinsically worse in this respect than the rest\nof the world. At the same time the age-long popularity of beast-fights\nshows that they are no better, and that the religious prescriptions of\nmercy to animals are, like most Levitical ordinances, merely local and\nritual in their effect, taking no deep hold on the mind and life.\n\nIf it were desirable to pile up horrors, nothing is easier than to tell\nauthentic stories of the cruelties formerly wrought for the pleasure of\nIndian Princes and their subjects in the arenas where beasts were made to\nfight. The accessories and accompaniments of these performances are more\nabhorrent than the fights themselves, for they show a loathsome and\ncold-blooded persistence in cruelty on the part of the men employed which\ntold in any detail would be revolting. Bishop Heber in his admirable Indian\njournals has, however, given a description that may be quoted without\noffence: \"We were shown five or six elephants in training for a fight. Each\nwas separately kept in a small paved court, with a little litter, but very\ndirty. They were all what is called _must_, that is, fed on stimulating\nsubstances to make them furious, and all showed in their eyes, their gaping\nmouths, and the constant motion of their trunks, signs of fever and\nrestlessness. Their mahouts seemed to approach them with great caution,\nand, on hearing a step, they turned round as far as their chains would\nallow, and lashed fiercely with their trunks. I was moved and disgusted at\nthe sight of so noble creatures, thus maddened and diseased by the absurd\ncruelty of man, in order that they might, for his diversion, inflict fresh\npain and injuries on each other.\"\n\nThis is an ancient practice; the manner of it is still a part of the\nmahouts' science, and full of mysteries and absurdities. Among other\nthings they firmly believe that the wax of the human ear is an infallible\nagent when duly combined with other nasty messes. But it is unnecessary to\nrake very deeply in this unpleasing subject. Moreover, the worst features\nof the old fights are now seldom presented. The lives of men are not now\nlightly risked to please a populace. The elephant, rhinoceros, buffalo,\nhorse, ass, tiger, leopard, camel, dog, wolf, and ram have all been made to\nfight to death in their time, but even this is seldom now permitted. The\nencounters between elephants, indeed, are often of a half friendly nature,\nlike those of American boxers; for it is not easy, without setting up a\nfunctional disturbance, to get an elephant into a rage. At the word of\ncommand he will drub another elephant, much as he would roll a log or lift\na cart-wheel, but he has too sweet and amiable a nature to make a real\nfighter.\n\nIn order to give an accurate picture of what takes place at an Indian beast\nfight to-day, of the slip-shod arrangements and the quaint way in which\nfolk and animals are mingled together, I quote a description of one of\nthese entertainments given at the installation of His Highness the Maharaja\nof Jammu and Kashmir, done from the life by my son for the Lahore paper in\n1886:--\n\n     \"Two huge water-buffaloes with ropes on their feet and a\n     dozen men at each rope were introduced to each other; the\n     crowd closing round them to within a few feet. Neither\n     animal required any urging, but put his head down at once\n     and butted. The shock of the opposing skulls rang like the\n     sound of a hatchet on wood across the arena. Then both\n     brutes laid head to head, and pushed and grunted and pawed\n     and sweated for five minutes; the crowd yelling madly\n     meanwhile. The lighter weight was forced back into the\n     crowd, recovered himself, butted again, turned sideways,\n     and was again forced back. After a few minutes more, when\n     each animal was setting down to his work with whole-hearted\n     earnestness, the order was given to separate them; and very\n     reluctantly the gigantic creatures were hauled in opposite\n     directions. Then a curious thing happened. A little child\n     ran forward out of the press, and standing on tip-toe,\n     reached up and embraced with both arms the hairy jowl of the\n     beast who had borne himself the most savagely in the fray.\n     It was a pretty little picture--spoilt by the other buffalo\n     suddenly breaking loose and charging down anew. A second\n     shock and yet another struggle followed, and both beasts\n     were eventually led off snorting and capering in uncouth\n     fashion to express their disgust at not being allowed to go\n     on. Two fresh bulls advanced gravely into the middle of the\n     arena, gazed at each other politely, and as politely\n     retired. They must have shared the same wallow together, for\n     fight they would not.\n\n     \"Next came the fighting rams, spotted and shaven beasts,\n     with Roman noses and rowdy visages straining away from their\n     owners and all apparently 'spoiling for a fight.' Two or\n     three couples were let go together, ran back to gather way,\n     came on and met, ran back, charged again, and repeated the\n     performance till the sound of their foolish colliding heads\n     was almost continuous.\n\n     \"After the first few minutes, when you begin to realise that\n     neither animal is likely to fall down dead, ram fighting is\n     monotonous. Sometimes a ram runs back for his charge\n     valiantly enough, but midway in his onset loses heart, turns\n     a fat tail to his antagonist, and flees to his master. The\n     adversary, being a beast of honour, immediately pulls up and\n     trots back to _his_ master. One light-limbed _d\u016bmba_ (the\n     fat-tailed variety) with red spots seems to be the champion\n     of Jummu. His charge generally upsets his antagonist at\n     once, and few care to stand a second.\n\n     \"As soon as all the rams had been disposed of, certain\n     vicious shrieks and squeals gave evidence that the horses\n     were being got ready, and the police set about widening the\n     ring. Presently a bay galloway and a black pony danced out,\n     dragging their attendants after them at the end of a long\n     rope. The instant they were let go, they ran open-mouthed at\n     each other, then turned tail to tail and kicked savagely for\n     five minutes; the black suffering most. Then, after the\n     manner of horses all the world over, they turned round and\n     closed, each striking with his fore-feet and striving to fix\n     his teeth in the other's crest. They squealed shrilly as\n     they boxed, and finally rose on end, a magnificent sight,\n     locked in each other's arms. The bay loosening his hold on\n     the black's poll, made a snatch at the black's near\n     fore-leg, which was at once withdrawn. Both horses then\n     dropped to the ground together and kicked and bit at close\n     quarters till the bay fled, with the black after him,\n     through the crowd. The men at the end of the drag ropes were\n     knocked over, scrambled up, and caught at the ropes again,\n     while the two maddened brutes plunged and struggled among\n     the people. About half a dozen were knocked over and shaken,\n     but no one was seriously hurt; and after wild clamour and\n     much running hither and thither both bay and black were\n     caught, blindfolded, and led away to reappear no more.\n     Buffaloes fight like men, and rams like fools; but horses\n     fight like demons, with keen enjoyment and much skill.\n\n     \"And now twilight had fallen; the wrestlers, who tumbled\n     about regardless of the excitement round them, had all put\n     their man down or had their own shoulders mired. The mob on\n     the double tiers of the amphitheatre dropped down into the\n     arena and flooded the centre till the elephants could\n     scarcely wade through the press.\n\n     \"Just at this time an unrehearsed and most impressive scene\n     followed. The biggest of the elephants, a huge beast with\n     gold-bound tusks, gold 'broidered jhool and six-foot\n     earrings, had been ordered to sit down for his riders to\n     mount. Before the ladder could be adjusted, he sprang up\n     with a trumpet, turned round towards the palace, uphill,\n     that is to say, and knocked a man over. Then he wheeled\n     round, the mahout pounding at his forehead with his iron\n     goad, to the other end of the arena, where another elephant\n     was going down the incline towards the lower part of the\n     city. He raced across the space, full of people, scattering\n     the crowd in every direction, butted the retreating elephant\n     in the rear, making him stagger heavily; ran back, butted\n     him again, and threw him on his knees near the stone\n     revetment of the earth-work terrace of the palace. Here the\n     mahout re-established some sort of control, swung him round,\n     and brought him back to be taken off roped and chained, in\n     deep disgrace.\n\n     \"The man thrown down at the beginning was brought up into\n     the palace verandah. He was naturally knocked out of breath\n     and desperately frightened, for the elephant had set a foot\n     on the loose folds of his paejamas. An old woman, overthrown\n     in the charge after the other elephant, lay on the ground\n     for a few minutes, and then hobbled off with the help of a\n     stick. That was the extent of the damage, inconceivably\n     small as it may appear, caused by a vicious elephant rushing\n     through a crowd of some thousands of people. The murmur of\n     fright and astonishment that went up from the crowd after it\n     was seen that the brute was out of hand, was curious to\n     listen to; being a long-drawn A--a--a--hoo which chilled the\n     blood. The sight of the crowd flying in deadly fear of their\n     lives was even more curious and impressive. Most impressive\n     of all was the bulk of the beast in the twilight, and the\n     clang of the silver earrings as it darted,--elephants can\n     dart when they like,--across the ground in search of its\n     enemy.\n\n     \"With this unique spectacle the sports of the evening\n     closed.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nOF ANIMALS AND THE SUPERNATURAL\n\n    \"O Hassan! Saving Allah, there is none\n    More strong than Eblis. Foul marsh lights he made\n    To wander and perplex us,--errant stars,\n    Red, devil-ridden meteors bringing plague--\n    Deserts of restless sand-drifts,--ice-bound seas\n    Wherein is neither life nor power to live;--\n    Bound Devils to the snow-capped peaks;--(These vex\n    Earth with their struggles,)--lashed undying fire\n    About the forehead of the tortured hills,\n    And filled the belly of the Deep with life\n    Unnameable and awful at his will:--\n    Sent forth his birds, the owl, the kite, the crow:--\n    Gray wolves that haunt our village gate at dusk\n    Made he his horses, and his councillor\n    The hooded snake;--in darkness wove the grass\n    That kills our cattle, made the flowers that suck\n    Man's life like dew-drops,--evil seeds and shrubs\n    That turn the sons of Adam into beasts\n    Whom Eblis snatches from the sword-wide Bridge.\n\n    \"The thing that stung thee and its kind, his hands\n    Fashioned in mockery and bitter hate,--\n    Dread beasts by land and water, all are his.\n    Each bears the baser likeness of God's work,\n    Distorted, as the shadow of thy face\n    In water troubled by the breeze.\"\n\n                        _The Seven Nights of Creation_--R. K.\n\n\nAll Indian animals are more or less concerned in the Hindu mind with the\nover or the under world, but certain ideas and beliefs which have not been\nnoticed in the foregoing pages deserve a moment's attention. An\nenumeration of the fabulous creatures invented by Eastern fancy would be a\nlong business, and, strictly speaking, belongs to another story--to the\nbook some happy pedant, rich in lore and leisure, will one day write on the\nNatural History of the birds, beasts, and fishes that never were in air or\nland or sea. Many of them are kin to the strange creatures of the monkish\nbestiaries of medieval Europe, the herring-gutted menageries of heraldry,\nand the poetry of all the world. The Rukh, mightiest of eagles; the Huma or\nPh\u0153nix; the Simurgh or Hippogriff; the buffalo demon or Bucentaur; the\nGaruda, often shown as a winged man with a bird's head; the Yali, a\nwonderful horse monster; Jatayu, the Vulture King; with dragons,\nsea-monsters, and the winged animals of every kind in which Mongolian and\nPersian imagination is exceptionally prolific, are only a few of a mighty\nand most fantastic host. Some have plainly grown to their place through the\nattempts of artists to represent the vague dreams of poets. Rude versions\nof the Avatars or incarnations of the Gods are accepted as portraits of\npossible creatures, such as Narsingha, the man-lion, the man-fish, and so\nforth. To trace the birth, kinships, growth in human esteem, migrations,\nand uses of these delightful monsters, and to marshal them in historical\nprocession, is a task that has been attempted of old time; but it still\nremains to link the East with the grotesque pageant, if not to place her\ncontingent at the head.\n\nThe ascription of souls and a share in a future state to animals is,\nhowever, the most truly supernatural aspect of Eastern notions with\nreference to them. Even Muhammadans, whose restrained fancy is bitted by\nthe severe injunctions of their creed, have allowed their minds to wander\nalong this line and have opened heaven's gate to mere creatures. Shah Ali's\ncamel, mentioned in another place, was led thither by the angel Gabriel.\nAbraham's ram is there because when the blindfolded Patriarch had slain, as\nhe thought, his only son Isaac whom he loved, he found, as the bandage fell\naway from his eyes, his son by his side and the ram bleeding on the altar.\nSolomon's ant is in Paradise because the wise king preached a sermon on its\nindustry, and because the dutiful insect dragged a locust for an offering\nup the steps of the lion-sculptured gold and ivory throne; the parrot of\nBalkis, Queen of Sheba, because it was so wise and eloquent; the ass of\nBalaam which spoke to the point; Jonah's whale; and for some topsy-turvy\nreason (perhaps because the passionate worship of it has damned sordid\ngenerations to another place), the golden calf of Moses; and Khetmir, the\ndog of the seven sleepers. According to the best authorities (who display\nan amazing confidence in these matters), there will be only men and women\nin our Christian heaven; and many in no irreverent spirit have been\ninclined to think with the Indians of both the old and new worlds that the\ncelestial courts will be a little dull without a dog. For many dreamers of\nlarge leisure and wandering wit have strayed down the blind alley opened by\nthe insoluble question,--do animals possess souls? Hitherto they have\nbrought nothing back, nor can we hope for an answer, though every day we\nsee the interrogation renewed in thousands of wistful animal eyes.\n\n    \"That liquid, melancholy eye,\n    From whose pathetic, soul-fed springs\n    Seem'd surging the Virgilian cry,\n    The sense of tears in mortal things.\"\n\n\"Soul-fed,\" said Mr. Matthew Arnold, and yet he sorrowfully puts his\ndachshund \"Geist\" back to a dark place among merely mortal things.\n\nWe may not gainsay the conclusion, but surely there are those who will\nlinger and hesitate. It would almost seem that they who most triumphantly\nread a clear title to their own sky mansions are the most reluctant to\nspell out a chance for the beast. Was not that sincere and good man, Dr.\nJohnson, just a little unkind to the worthy divine afflicted with a belief\nin the immortality of brutes? Boswell describes how the \"speculatist with a\nserious, metaphysical, pensive face,\" said: \"But really, Sir, when we see a\nvery sensible dog, we don't know what to think of him.\" To which the doctor\nreplied: \"True, Sir: and when we see a very foolish _fellow_, we don't know\nwhat to think of _him_.\" And then the great man rolled and shook in\ncontemptuous laughter over his rude and all too easy victory. You must\nlaugh with him, but, the laughter done, it is God that knows, and not Dr.\nJohnson.\n\nAnother link with the supernatural is the power over wild creatures with\nwhich Indian ascetics are universally credited. Like many other ideas\naccounted peculiarly Oriental, this is only a belated European fancy. In\nMr. Lecky's _History of European Morals_ examples of miraculous power over\nsavage nature are given from the saintly legends of the West, and all might\nbe capped by tales of Indian jogis and faqirs. You can be shown to-day\nforest shrines and saintly tombs where the tiger comes nightly to keep a\npious guard, and you may hear in any Hindu village of jogis to whom the\ncruel beasts are as lapdogs. In the native newspapers, as in popular talk,\ncases are reported in complete good faith where a Raja out hunting is\nendangered by a mad wild elephant or a ferocious tiger. At the critical\nmoment the jogi appears and orders the obedient beast away. There may be\nsome ground for this belief. An anchorite, living in the forest among\nwell-nourished beasts of prey who were plentifully supplied with antelope\nand wild pig, could come and go unharmed. When wild things are let alone\nthey are not so shy as sportsmen fancy. (At this moment a wild wood pigeon,\nshyest of birds, is nesting unnoticed by the thousands who pass her in\nKensington Gardens.) And when one considers the awful _ennui_ of a life\ngiven up to religious meditation and abstraction,--mental feats of which\nnot more than twenty strong souls in a generation are capable,--it is\nconceivable that a bored hermit, weary of stretching after the unknowable,\nmight amuse himself with the easy feat of taming a wild animal; but here,\nsurely, the miracle would begin and end.\n\nA case occurred in Lahore within the last five years which seems to show\nthat though faith survives, it is now a dangerous anachronism. A Mussulman\nfaqir, visiting the beast garden, deliberately thrust his arm through the\nbars of the cage in which Moti, our tiger, was confined. Moti ought to have\nfawned on the sacred limb, but instead of worshipping as the faqir\nintended, he began to dine, and the arm was torn from its socket before the\npoor man could be dragged away. At first there seemed a chance that he\nwould survive the dreadful mutilation, but after lingering two or three\ndays, bearing himself with great serenity and composure, he died in\nhospital. A native would tell you that this was not a fair trial. Moti was\na demoralised, denationalised tiger, for he was captured when a few days\nold, and brought up by the officers of a British regiment, and it was only\nto be expected that he should make a mistake.\n\nThat mere faith is a potent charm is shown by another little story in which\nMoti was concerned. Once he escaped from his den and there was a wild\nalarm. The Jemadar or head-man of the gardens, a man of great personal\ncourage, ran across the road to Government House demanding an official\norder from the Sircar for the arrest of the truant. Somebody gave him a\nlarge official envelope with a big seal, and thus armed the Jemadar went in\nchase. Moti was found on the public promenade or Mall, very much alone, as\nmight be expected. The keeper hurried up to him, displaying the Lord\nSahib's order, and shaking it in his face, rated him in good, set terms for\nhis black ingratitude in breaking from the care of a Government that fed\nhim regularly and used him well. Then he unwound the turban from his head,\nand having tied it round the beast's neck, haled him to his den, gravely\nlecturing as he led. Moti went like a lamb. Some years after, it is sad to\nsay, the Jemadar was killed by a bear who had not the tiger's respect for\nofficial authority. Which things are an allegory of Empire as well as a\ntrue tale.\n\nIn his turn Moti also died, and his skin, now in the Lahore Museum, being\ncarelessly removed, does scanty justice to the memory of a beautiful\nbeast--the only animal of my acquaintance that really liked tobacco. The\nsmoke of a strong Trichinopoly cheroot blown in his face delighted him; he\nwould sidle, blink, stretch, and arch his mighty back with the ineffable\nsatisfaction that all cats find in aromatic odours.\n\nAn ancient superstition of world-wide currency, and still firmly rooted in\nIndia, is the belief that some men and women can assume at will the form of\nanimals. This theme is obviously capable of infinite variations. One of the\nmost popular of a hundred tales accounts for a man-eating tiger of unusual\nbloodthirstiness. Once upon a time he was a man, who by traffic with demons\nhad acquired a charm which enabled him to change to a tiger. His wife,\nbeing as curious as the rest of the daughters of Eve, begged to be allowed\nto witness the transformation. Very reluctantly he consented, and entrusted\nher with a magic root to be given to him to restore him to his real estate.\nBut when the tiger appeared before her, the poor woman lost her head and\nran away in terror, and before she could recover the villagers saw him and\nset out in chase. She never had another chance of meeting her husband. So\nshe died of grief, and he in rage and despair revenged himself on humanity\nat large. Tales of this kind should be told, as in India, in the evening\nshadows under the village pipal tree, suggestively whispering of ghost-land\noverhead, while the vast background of the outer dark beckons the fancy to\na far travel. Under these circumstances the absurdity of animal\ntransformation assumes a dignity and reasonableness impossible to convey in\nprint.\n\nWe have mostly forgotten in Europe the meaning of the marks printed on men\nand animals, though there are signs of a revival of the trivial nonsense\namong those who profess to foretell the future. As the sutures of the skull\nare supposed to print in God's own undecipherable Arabic the fate of each\nsoul, so many another imprint gives signs which only the very wise may\nread. And there are pleasant popular fancies of the more obvious animal\nmarks. Thus Buddha gave the cobra the characteristic spectacle-shaped\nmarkings on the back of his hood as a protection against Garuda, the\nkite,--a somewhat futile invention, for they would seem made to attract a\nkite. Rather should they have been the prints of the hands of the Gods, who\nused him as a churn string when the sacred mountain was the churn-stick and\nthe sea was stirred to the wondrous tune of creation. The stripes on the\nIndian squirrel are the marks of Hanum\u0101n's thumb, seizing the little\ncreature in haste to fill up the last gap in the bridge he built between\nIndia and Ceylon. Muhammad has left a thumb-mark on the neck of the Arab\nhorse, much as St. Peter thumb-marked the John dory when he took from its\ngills the providential tribute money; and all the Christian world knows how\nthe sign of the cross was imprinted on the shoulder of the ass.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThat supernatural beliefs should sit so lightly on the souls of men is a\nphenomenon as wonderful as the beliefs themselves. There are a few in all\nlands to whom their creeds are vital, others on whom they press only at the\nurgent crises of their lives; but the vast bulk of humanity is content to\nmutter an indifferent acquiescence. If we did not daily see by how slack a\nhold the faiths of the West control its life, we might marvel at the\nindifference of the East to the sufferings of animals whose bodies are\nbelieved to be tenanted by human souls.\n\n[Illustration: THE END]","title":"Beast and Man in India: A Popular Sketch of Indian Animals in their Relations with the People","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":94062}