all imaginable and unimaginable kinds of drinking-glasses, mostly contain

The Badé.

smaller and smaller, and each one represents a small temple. The number of "toempangs" varies according to the caste of the deceased; thus the one erected for Tabanan consisted of seven "toempangs," whilst that of the concubine only had five; the Dewa-agong of Kalongkong has a right to eleven. The poor ill-used Sudra is not permitted to have a single one. In the very top compartment of all there is a bed of repose on which the body of the defunct is laid.

In case of the Sudras the bed of repose is covered over, to prevent the holy rays of the sun shining on the unholy body of a person of low degree. The priests are however exempt from this last injury;

Griffin.

their remains are exposed to the heavens and their resting place is constructed after the model of Siva's seat.

The bamboo framework, which is ornamented with colossal monsters, wilmanas and garoedas (griffins) and dragons' heads, etc., is covered over with white linen, variegated flowers and all sorts of coloured ribbons, whilst sundry illustrations from their hero legends and oftentimes very obscene facts of every day life-so that the people should not feel too depressedform a strange picture of this curious religion, so closely blending the sublime with the frivo

lous. All the tiny doors and pillars of the "toempangs" and every small space that is available are covered with gold tinsel; here and there are added little bannerets of coloured silk and hundreds of little square looking-glasses in gilt frames give a very effective finishing touch to the whole arrangement.

The day previous to the final rite is devoted by the priests to the "washing of the corpse, which betokens, that when the deceased returns to the earth under a new form, he will have lovely eyes, wellmade ears, etc., and these ablutions are followed by a sort of absolution, the priest declaring the defunct now free from all sin.

Amidst extraordinary tumult and uproar the corpse is conveyed from its temporary resting place to the ready prepared "wadah." As soon as

the body is laid on the bed of repose, all those who have helped to carry it up descend, only one remaining in charge, holding in his hand an open pasong (umbrella) to signify that only one ray of sun shall penetrate to the "balé-baléjan," (this is the name of the bed of repose). Whilst he tries to settle himself as best he may in his elevated position, from fifty to a hundred men raise the structure on to their shoulders and proceed slowly to the square in front of the prince's residence or the dessa chief's, and walk round it in procession, so that the deceased, whose soul is still present, may have an opportunity of once more bidding farewell to his friends. This formality concluded, the procession proceeds to the Sema, (crematorium) and the body is carried down and placed in a kind of chest,* where for the last time the priest sprinkles it with "toja-tirta." We, Europeans, who were present at this ceremony tried to keep at a safe distance, but evidently the "holy" man is possessed of olfactory organs different to ours, for nothing daunted, he stooped over the remains and read the prescribed formula over N.N. From time to time an assistant handed him a vase containing the tojatirta; this vase may only be used once for this purpose, after which it is flung on the ground and smashed to bits.

"Meanwhile two men are waiting to hear the padanda pronounce the last words, and then they immediately kindle the wood under the trough and under the wadah; in a few moments a loud crackling announces that the flames are spreading; this sound is the signal for the afflicted members of the family and their guests to take their departure with the utmost possible speed. A couple of live hens are tied to the top of the wadah; they are to assist the departing soul in his flight to heaven and no doubt every one would gladly witness this ascension, but they are all afraid of the evil spirits, who crowd around the Sema to disturb the sacred rites if they can. Only a couple of men stay behind in order to scrape together the ashes of the deceased and place them in a little heap; properly speaking it is their duty to keep watch over them, but they are just as frightened as everybody else and they are grateful to the law, which allows them to substitute an image in their stead. When the kalas come in search of their victim they find that he has flown to higher regions and no living person is visible on whom to vent their wrath! It is only on the following morning that the family returns to secure the ashes and wrap them up carefully, then with the accompaniment of music and song they carry them solemnly to the shore; here a final religious ceremony is gone through, after which the remains are handed over to a couple of men, who row out to the open sea, where the ashes are consigned to the deep; this last act constitutes the final severance from this earth, but from this watery grave the soul may eventually return with impunity.

But this return may not take place forthwith. Even after the final function, (makirim) several other religious ceremonies in commem

* It is really a wooden trough supported by four legs and carved in the shape of some animal. Every corpse has a separate trough.

oration of the dead are performed, and before the conclusion of all these, the departed soul may not revisit the earth. It does sometimes happen that the deceased member of some family grows impatient and returns too soon; but then this is always followed by the death of the infant into whose body such a soul shall have entered. The instances in which a Balinese will point out to you a child bearing a striking resemblance to some member of the family dead and cremated years and years before are just as numerous as the instances where the death of a newborn child is ascribed to the impatience of some dead relative to return. We have given this description at length, because it throws such a strong light on the religious belief, so strangely mixed with superstition, that one finds among these people.

But what about those women in the sedan-chairs? had they really been burned alive?

"Well, no!" that at least was the reply of the Rajah Tabanan. Since the Government have signified to the Balinese princes their disapproval of this hideous practice, it has been discontinued, at least publicly.

But who can say what is done privately and in Lombock, where our authority was so slight?

In order to evade the letter of the law, Dr. Jacob tells us that in Bali, they have succeeded in circumventing it by a practice which is certainly quite as barbarous; when the hour of sacrifice arrives the victims kriss themselves. . . . this is not prohibited by the law.... and surely.... they are permitted to cremate dead bodies? Zollinger was once present at a kris-feast or festival.... we call it feast for want of a better name, and this is really what it always is.... at least for the spectators. From his account we extract the following:

"A deceased Gusti at Ampenan had left three wives. One of them being childless desired to offer up her life in proof of the love she had borne her husband. (We must remember our previous remark, that the wife was always blamed if there were no children of the marriage.) She considered that by this sacrifice she would be privileged to accompany him on his long journey and be his favorite in another world. After the corpse of the Gusti had been treated as described in the foregoing sketch, the widow was carried on the outstretched arms of her womenfriends to the place of execution.

"Her only garment was a piece of white linen; her head was crowned with lovely chrysanthemums; she was perfectly calm and collected and displayed neither fear nor regret. She stood in front of her husband's body, raised her arms on high and prayed in silence. Women approached her and offered her little bunches of red and white flowers; she took them one by one and placed them between the fingers of the hand raised above her head-as she did this the women took them away from her hand and dried them. Every time the widow accepted the flowers and returned them she made a slight movement to the right so that by the time she had had the eighth bouquet, she had turned round completely. She prayed once more in silence, then approached the dead body, kissed the head, the breast, the abdomen, the knees and

the feet and then resumed her place. Her rings were taken off. She crossed her arms across her chest. Two women supported her and then her brother (an adopted one) placed himself opposite to her and asked her in gentle tones if she were determined to die and when she nodded her head affirmatively, he asked her forgiveness for being obliged to kill her suddenly he grasped his kris and stabbed her in the left side, but not very deep, so she still remained standing; thereupon he flung away his kris and took to flight. Then a man in authority took his own kris and plunged it up to the hilt into the breast of the unfortunate woman, who fell to the ground without a murmur.

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Some women placed her on a mat and tried to make the blood flow as quickly as possible by rolling the body about and squeezing it, but as the victim was not yet quite dead one more kris was thrust into the body between the shoulders. After this she was placed on a restingplace near her husband and the ceremonial that had been performed for him, was now performed for her. When all was over the two corpses were anointed with resin and cosmetics and wrapped in fine linen and then laid in the "balé bandoeng," where they were left until the time appointed for the cremation."

The cost of cremation being considerably greater than that of "krissing," it is only the widows of very wealthy men who can indulge in that luxury. The wives of the priests are spared the trouble of choosing, as they are exempt from both.

Concerning cremation we quote from Friederich, who was present at the cremation of three widows at Giangar:

"A very high scaffolding was erected. Once again the three widows went through endless ceremonials. Then they climbed the scaffolding. They looked at one another to see if they were all ready to die. It was not a look of fear, but a look of impatience to hurl themselves into the flames beneath them. When the planks, saturated with oil, on which they stood were pushed over the fire they executed three "sembahs"movement with the hands above the head-and as the doves placed on their heads ascended on high with their souls, they, without a murmur, cast themselves headlong into the flames below.

-a

"The air resounds with music, shouts of joy go forth from every throat, even cannons are fired off....!"

But not always does unconsciousness follow immediately, not always does death put an instantaneous end to their tortures.

Then the most gruesome sights are witnessed. "It must frequently occur," says Dr. Jacobs on the authority of Clavel in his History of Religions,, that the women, at the sight of the funeral pyre, try to draw back from their terrible fate; the final struggle must be terrible beyond words when they are accompanied by their children on this last journey; their shrieks of anguish pierce high above the jubilant shouts of the crowd; they implore of their executioners, the priests, who are with them, to let them live for the sake of their children, whom they press to their hearts again and again and who in this last agony have