SKETCHES OF INDIA.

BY HENRY MOSES, M.D.

BOMBAY AND ITS PEOPLE.

[Continued.]

"I think I can see the precise and distinguishing marks of national character, more in these nonsensical minutiæ, than in the most important matters of state." STERNE.

T is not my intention to discuss or dwell much upon the rise and progress of our magnificent Eastern possessions, since the fortunes of war placed India under the dominion of Great Britain. Celebrated historians have

already done justice to this singularly interesting subject; and have laid before the reading publie, volumes, teeming with instruction and amusement. As a simple sketcher of common life and every-day scenes in this country, once the land of fable, I will endeavour, as I proceed, to note down the various little peculiarities that struck me as illustrating the character of its inhabitants-a character but little changed since the days of Nadir Shah,* or the destroyer, Timour."† The hand of despotism, indeed, now no longer desolates this once oppressed land, to rob an industrious, or shed the blood of a peaceful race, like that of the Hindoo. The Christian banner of England now waves over the land; our protection and assistance have been offered, and "accepted with a readiness which clearly showed that the Mohammedan reign of terror was still fresh upon the national memory. As opportunity may offer itself, we will occasionally leave the busy haunts of men, and wander among woods and silent forests, and take a glance at scenes full of interest to the naturalist, and to all who love to ponder and commune with nature in her wildest moods.

All the treasures which earth offers to man have, as it is well known,

Nadir Shah is said to have massacred 100,000 people in Delhi, formerly the capital of the Mogul empire.

Timour, or Tamerlane, invaded Hindostan as the leader of the Mongul Tartars, in 1389.

been liberally scattered over the face of this double-harvest-bearing clime; which in consequence, has excited human ambition, and spurred men on to explore it, in its never-failing resources, even from the snowy heights of the wondrous Himalaya range, down to the spicy shores of Cape Comorin. I shall take care to avoid the folly so often committed and complained of—the folly of giving too high a colouring to pictures of domestic life in the East; but of the beauty and the magnificence of its landscapes and scenery, I do not think it possible that language can convey an adequate description. Truth has been said to be at times more startling than fiction; and, with good old sober Truth for our guide, my readers and I may, I hope, make our way onwards very agreeably. India is now brought so near us, through the medium of steam, that English readers naturally look for a little more of the minutiæ of Indian life, than they formerly found in the narratives of travellers; and this is exactly what I hope to supply. It is true I can hold out no attractive promises of tiger-hunts, or daring adventures in the jungles; a species of information, which, as I well know, has cast a charm over the works of some writers on Life in India. These subjects, however, having of late entered largely into the descriptive volumes of almost every adventurer who has ever had an opportunity of letting off a percussion-cap in the East, and of startling his friends at home with its effects, have become familiar to the fireside traveller: so, leaving the tigers to those who have had the good fortune to meet with so many of them, and who have turned them to such good account, I must candidly confess, strange though it may appear, that I never, in the whole course of my rambles, met with either lion or tiger, with the exception, indeed, of a stuffed tiger, that occupied a very important position in the bungalow of a very kind friend of mine, who resided at Colabah, glaring upon you just as you entered the reception-room. My friend used to stroke down the skin, and lament that so noble an animal as the tiger should have become so scarce, as very seldom to be met with in that part of India. I once expressed some little surprise at this remark; for having but just come over to the country, I fancied that every clump of brushwood sheltered some horrible wild animal of some kind or another, that was always in readiness to pounce upon you unexpectedly. The kind captain, however, informed me that I was about to commence my griffinage; and assured me that I should think very differently before that eventful period had expired.

What a beautiful bungalow his was! From the road, you looked down a long vista of caoutchouc and scarlet-flowering acacia trees. In

front of a very large, handsome porch, were clumps of pomegranate, bearing at one and the same time, the calabash fruit, and their wax-like flowers. Shading the dining-room windows, grew a shrub about six feet high, that every morning during the two months of my residence with my friend, was loaded with hundreds of large and brilliant yellow flowers. The building was octagonal in shape; so that from whatever quarter a stray breeze might come, you could open the blinds, and admit it at But instead of lingering here, we must go back to the Fort, and to Bombay;* and cast another glance upon its houses and people.

once.

Upon my first ramble through the streets of Bombay, the houses struck me as being most uncomfortable places to live in; so far as I could judge, they wanted that life about them, if I may use the expression, which we find in our snug English residences. No glass windows, but dingy outside shutters, and heavy warehouse sort of doors. The walls are all coloured, and the houses being three or four stories high, throw gloomy shadows over the narrow streets. Some of these buildings give an idea of a great age, and are very curious in their architecture. Some have great projecting balconies roofed over, and supported on elaborately carved wooden pillars, the shafts and capitals of which, exhibit various odd and fantastic devices, standing out in bold relief, and taken from the Hindoo mythology. The ends of many of the supporting timbers are ornamented by grotesque figures in strange attitudes, representing very faithfully some of the favourite animals, birds, &c., which are held sacred by the natives; these figures being supposed to watch over those within-doors. Between the legs of an elephant or a Brahmin bull, it is not unusual to see a jackdaw or a pigeon-nest comfortably constructed, and sparrows and minahs have brought up their young ones in the open mouth of a buffalo, or among the folds of a serpent. The minah, I may now remark, has all the characteristics of the starling about him, though materially differing in plumage from that well-known bird. These birds, being fond of the abodes of man, you meet with them in every town and village in India. In the streets here, you see flocks of birds, so tame as scarcely to move out of your way as you pass, but no one thinks of disturbing them; the children, most unlike our children at home in all their movements and actions, take but little notice of them; indeed they are taught to love and be kind to all God's creatures, and to deprive nothing of the life which they cannot give. The consequence of this part of their education, from which, methinks

Bombay takes its name from two Portuguese words, bom bahia, signifying a good harbour or bay.

English parents might gather a useful hint, is, that we see here, as it were, perfect harmony existing between man, beast, and bird. The tameness of these birds, as I must confess, was not "shocking to me;" I was delighted to live in a country where cruelty to the inferior animals was unknown, and where the beautiful creatures of the great Creator were justly valued; and not shot down for the mere sport and amusement of the idle and vicious. A stream of love too, is thus infused into the infant mind. We see it in childhood, and we see its fruits in manhood; for the domestic hearth of the gentle Hindoo is never so happy as when it is surrounded by his descendants even to the second and third generation. In short, nothing but death ever separates the members of a Hindoo family. I have seen little children, of a morning, filling the stone troughs, so often met with in the streets in India, with water, to supply the wants of the many animals that pass up and down during the day, in the dry hot season; and there was something so touching in this innocent office, that I could have kissed the dark little faces that smiled so sweetly on the pigeons and other birds, as they came fearlessly to bathe in the fresh water so kindly supplied for their use. But I love children, and must make my way back to their houses.

On each side of the principal entrance of a house at Bombay, there is commonly a small gothic niche for the reception of lamps, which, in the dwellings of the wealthy natives, are lighted every night with a simple bit of cotton-wool, rolled between the fingers, and stuck into a holder, which is often sunk in cocoa-nut oil. In some houses I have seen a winding staircase outside, so as to enable you to reach the flat roof without going through the house; or to ascend to an upper story, which perhaps may be occupied by another branch of the family. The roofs are often tiled in part, and the flat portion is covered with a fine cement called chunam, which when thoroughly dry becomes very white and polished. Here may be seen china flower-pots and stone seats in great variety, chairs, couches, &c. The roof, too, is often used as a place in which to sleep and smoke, in the hot season. To these flats the Hindoo ladies go up to pray, unseen by the busy world below; and as many of the native women are quite shut out from holding any intercourse with strangers,† I have thought it was a happy idea to give them

It is not unusual to find three or four generations of the same family residing under one roof. The Hindoos marry at thirteen or fourteen years of age.

+ Hindoo ladies being supposed to loose caste if they appear in public, their lives are passed in great seclusion from the world.

some opportunity of looking occasionally upon the surrounding beauties of their fair country; and of contemplating at night from their housetops, the wonders of the starry firmament.

Some of the streets are so narrow, that the buildings on each side almost meet at the top; and such streets, are of course awfully hot, every breath of air being forbid to enter. It is true, indeed, that the rain cannot annoy or distress those who are walking below; and this is, certainly, so far an advantage over the broad system; but, upon the whole, these confined streets are a great drawback to the health of the town. The grand end aimed at in the construction of all Indian buildings is, to defend them as much as possible from the immediate influence of the sun's rays; and various are the devices resorted to, to effect this object. As the fortifications as well as the houses of Bombay rise to a great height, you have not the least chance of enjoying the morning or evening sea-breeze, unless it be from the flat roofs already mentioned; consequently, hundreds of persons leave the Fort at stated hours, and assemble in picturesque groups, upon the esplanade, the sea-shore, and in other airy haunts, to chat over the past or coming events of the day. The streets, when I first arrived, were suffered to remain in a very offensive state, particularly those occupied by the lower classes, who were accustomed to cast out, in front of their dwellings, everything that was of no use within; but scavengers are now employed, to clear away the pestilential accumulations that impregnated the breath of heaven with every species of abomination. Fever and cholera were, of course, the result of this horrid state of things; which thus brought along with it its own reward; and taking into consideration the condition of other native towns which it was my lot to visit, we may easily account for the dreadful ravages these diseases commit in the East, sweeping off, as they sometimes do, whole populations, in a very brief space of time.

The bazaars here, are poor and uninteresting; as the shopkeepers make no show of their goods outside, to attract attention. They sit on a chair at the door, casting up their accounts, or fanning themselves with a punkah. If you are in want of any article, they invariably show you in the first place, the worst specimen of it in their possession, asking you, however, double its value; and not until they see that you are about to leave the shop, will they produce what you really want. A number of the best shops are kept by Parsees, who are very fond of trading in English and French goods, which they either have consigned to them, or which they pick up at the large sales, at Frith's auction rooms, in the Fort, which generally take place once a month. At these