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has a good eye for the beauties and the sublimities of nature, and a graphic style for the description of scenery. She has, moreover, made ample use of a good library; and has collected, through the help of others, a good deal of information from natives, respecting the habits of the different races and castes. In this way, she has produced an exceedingly pleasing book, which contains a great deal of information in a very unpretending and attractive form.

Chow-Chow professes to be a collection of "odds and ends," and there is no way of noticing it more suitable to its nature, than merely selecting a few of these, as fair specimens of the whole. As a specimen of the notes that Europeans in India are constantly receiving from natives, we are presented with the following from

AN AFFECTIONATE BUTCHER.

"To MRS. COLLECTOR

SAHIB, ESQ."

"HONOURED MADAM,

"Madam's butler says that madam is much displeased with poor butcher, because mutton too much lean and tough. But sheep no grass got, where get fat? When come rain, then good mutton. I kiss your honour's pious feet. "I have the honour to remain madam,

"Your affectionate butcher,
MAHOMED CASSEIN."

We think our readers will agree with us in considering the following as a good and graphic description of

A DUST-STORM:

But

"At about four o'clock one very lovely afternoon, while in my verandah, overlooking the sea and beautiful view, embracing Back Bay, Colaba, the Fort of Bombay, the harbour, distant mountains, and the extensive cocoa-nut wood of palms, to the left, I heard some one say, suddenly," "what is that?" "It is a fire." "No, it is a dust-storm." Over the far distant mountains, dingy, yellow, red clouds were stirring. With us at Malabar Point, all was bright, calm, and beautiful. In a few minutes the mountains, Colaba, the fort and town of Bombay became quite invisible, as if they had suddenly sunk into the ocean. we were not to escape unmolested; soon a low, murmuring sound was heard; the sea close to us became gently agitated. The leaves of the trees, till now quite undisturbed, began to rustle; the sky was overcast, but the sun was not quite obscured; the colour of the sea was magnificent; there were streaks of deep purple, green, and lilac; the waves looked like rainbows; the wind became stonger every minute; kites and crows could not fly, they perched themselves on rocks and trees, waiting for the storm to be over. Myriads of dragon-flies were tossed up and down by the wind, which now rushed through the bungalow, bringing with it clouds of dust, which covered everything in its passage; and then fell torrents of rain, and everything was refreshed for a time."

"The distant view was still scarcely to be seen, and a cloud swept over the ocean to the right, seeming to disappear at the islands of Kennery and Hennery. When the storm subsided, the sky did not recover its usual serenity, and the evening closed with murky-looking clouds still moving about."

We have said that Lady Falkland does not tell us much about the European society in Bombay, and in this, we think that she acts wisely. When she has any thing to say, however, she is not afraid to speak out. The following portraiture of two veterans might

have found an appropriate place in the Delhi Sketch-book in its best days.

OLD FOGIES.

"I knew in Bombay, an old officer, who had been at least forty years absent from Europe; during which time, he had served his country well in a military capacity; had been in many climates, and seen many countries. His face was like a map; here you could see a corner of Sierra Leone, there you could trace a bit of Canada, and here was Bermuda. His career was engraven on his face.

"I happened once to mention to him a great event which had lately taken place in Europe. He stared at me, and said, "I know nothing at all about it." "Not discouraged, I started another topic connected with public affairs in England, when I received a decided check by his answering, "I take no interest at all in it." I still hoped to rouse him from such a state of apathy, and spoke of the admirable speech of some well-known politician, when to this he calmly replied, "I know nothing at all about him,”

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"This person belonged quite to the old school.' People now run home,' as it is called, oftener-get their ideas brushed up, and, what is far better, bring out new ones with them.

"It is seldom that members of the Company's service remain so long in India, but worn-out Queen's officers are occasionally sent there from our colonies by the authorities at home. Of this last class was my friend above mentioned. I afterwards knew an ancient general officer, who was appointed to a command in India. He was nearly blind and deaf, and, though the 'pink' of courtesy and an amiable man-distinguished, moreover, as a soldier in earlier life-of course, could no longer be active in the discharge of his military duties. His aides-de-camp were for ever occupied in preventing his falling over the footstools in the drawing-room, when he went out to dinner. He was not exactly the right man in the right place.""

With reference to the above extract, we must call attention to the fact that these two gentlemen were not "old Indians." We question whether, even in our most "benighted" days, the most thorough specimen of the "country-bottled" class would have so far gloried in his shame, as to confess that he knew nothing at all of the important events taking place in Europe.

We have said that, in order to get an acquaintance with the manners and habits of the natives, Lady Falkland was in the habit of calling in the aid of gentlemen acquainted with the native languages, who made enquiries for her, and translated the depositions thus obtained. In this way, she procured the following account of the "hamals" or

PALKI-BEARERS OF THE BOMBAY PRESIDENCY:

"We begin to learn about seventeen; an old hand is placed in front, and a young one behind, under a pole, with heavy stones at each end, slung with rope, to give the weight of a palanquin, and so the step is learnt; some take to it immediately, others are very long in learning.

"Of the six hamals under the poles of a palkee, the leader and the last of all are of most consequence; for, if not steady, able, and quick, they may throw down the rest.

"We size ourselves with care before starting, and make up for difference in height by pads on the shoulders. We prefer going down a gentle slope, rather than on a straight road; and, if all are good hamals, can go down a steep hill very quickly. It is hard work, up hill for long. We can go eighteen coss (of two miles each) at one run.

"The strong and healthy among our sons are always selected for palkec work; others, weakly, and without good heart, seek other employments, such as biggaries' (porters of loads), cultivators' labourers, &c.

"Palkee employment is considered creditable, and always gladly embraced by the stout sons, who see that hamals eat well, and can dress and live respectably.

"We always pray to our Hindoo god when bathing, and particularly when out of employ and hard up. We are sure to improve afterwards. When not able to get sufficient palkee work, we carry loads, or trim fields. Our relatives or friends in all villages are the constituted carriers and guides. One always attends at the village office, and when a traveller arrives, and wants carriers or a guide, he gives intimation to others in their houses, and they run for employment. Small portions of land, rent free, are allowed by government to some of our people, in the neighbourhood of each village; and they are greatly trusted by the head men of villages, even to transport large sums of money. We hold ourselves individually and collectively answerable for any loss by theft, when employed in sets; and any individual among us detected in robbing from a palanquin, would be expelled, with disgrace. I have been at work seventeen years, and never knew of a loss.

"Most of us have no certain provision for old age, and when unable to work, depend generally on near relations, or, failing them, we beg.

"We are almost always in arrears to the Banian shopkeepers, whom we pay after employment, and entirely trust to keep the accounts, for none of us can read or write. God knows if they are truly kept; but we cannot object, or we should get no food or credit when out of cash, and so, perhaps, starve.

"We always remain in sets of twelve, and the Banians will trust us to the extent of twenty rupees for the whole set in one month, which must be paid generally before a new score is commenced. Our usual daily food is one seer (two pounds) of bajree flour, which equals two Bombay seers, for one man, and fish or meat, when we can get them; we generally manage to have one good, large dinner in a month. A set receives a few rupees in advance when ordered for a journey, and then we purchase food on the road, as opportunities offer; the remainder of the hire is paid us on our return.

"Noon and eight at night are our feeding hours, three times a day if rich. "If our first wife dies we take another, with a binding, but less expensive ceremony. Widows never marry again, butnikkur,' that is a less expensive ceremony. We marry our children when infants, if we can afford to do so, otherwise wait until they grow up, for a regular marriage costs a deal of

money.

"We all speak Mahratta amongst ourselves, but the best of us can generally speak Hindustani. You see I can. We sing because it lightens the burden and shortens the road; we forget the distance; always improvise the songs according to the circumstances of the road, the weather, the weight, travellers or animals we meet, or people or things we all know about at a distance. Some men make quick and amusing observations in their song, the rest answer, as it were, or acknowledge their merit together in chorus.

"When very tired, we walk up and down each other's backs, after which we feel greatly refreshed; this is done when the tired man is lying flat on the ground. If a man is too much knocked up to proceed, then the set' must, at any cost to themselves, get another on the road, and sometimes have to pay a great deal for the assistance they cannot do without. It is a point of credit and character among us, that every man shall do his best on the road. I have five fingers on this hand; none of them are alike some long, some short, it is the same with us all. Some are strong and stout-hearted, others are so in different degrees; but, if every man does his best, whatever that may amount to, we are all satisfied, and equally distribute the pay received for the whole set. If a man is stout and hearty, it is by the favour of God, and the best of the stout man does not cost him more than the best of the weak man costs him.

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"At first the pole gives pain to the shoulders, but the flesh becomes thickened after a time, and at last quite callous.

"We sometimes get swollen (varicose) veins in the legs, but they get well, at

least for a time, after bleeding them. We are nearly always well when employ ed; but sicken when idle, and nothing to do-no pay, the heart gets sad, and body unwell.

"We all acknowledge 'Bugwan' as the supreme ruler of Heaven and Earth. "We are Mhars, and considered of low caste; other Hindoos will not eat with us, or let us draw water from their wells, neither are we permitted to go within those portions of the temples in which the images of our deities are placed; but, notwithstanding, we are the first in the land-every one admits that.

"We are the children of the soil; the land is ours, though the law will not let us enjoy the fruits of it, as it was intended we should do, but if it be unproductive, if men, women, or children are possessed of the evil spirit, it is the Mhar who is called by the other castes of the Hindoos to wrestle with and drive him out, and to intercede with the deities; and by these efforts and intercessions only can the object be gained. Ask all the people about you, if this is not the case. Who has the honour of swinging with hooks in his back before our images at the feast of the Dussera? It is the Mhar alone, and no one else can be so honoured.

"If a Hindoo of any caste has a domestic affliction or personal grievance, and he repairs to one of the shrines to pray for relief, he places his offering (a cocoanut or other fruit) before the image, and pours water on it, but he says nothing; it is I, the Mhar, who from the outside of the door, but looking on the image, must first address the god in the petitioner's favour, for nothing will be granted unless I do so; it is my acknowledged right. If, on these occasions, the petitioner, or any other Hindoo, lays down, or accidentally drops anything on the earth, even money, it is mine, and all that so touches it, and he cannot, if a good Hindoo, take it back again; but if his heart is small, he may redeem it, because there is no order of government by which I can retain it.

"We bury our dead, and do not burn them; some other Hindoo castes bury as well as burn, but with them, as you know, to burn the dead is considered the more correct course; but we are content, and think it right to bury. "We throw flowers, if we can get them, into the graves, but there is not any particular ceremony or prayers used at funerals."

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From a note, which we have omitted, appended by Lady Falkland to the passage where the " "hamal speaks of the different lengths of his fingers, we perceive that she has entirely missed the point of the allusion. She evidently supposes that it is of the nature of a complaint, as to the laborious nature of the avocation; whereas it is in reality an illustration of the great principle in political economy, that all the members of a community, laboring in their various measures for the good of the whole, are entitled to the recognition due to all who "do what they can." It is in fact a more elegant version of the allegory which produced so beneficial an effect, when told in old days on the Mons Sacer; or it is an illustration of the Christian precept, "They that are strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please themselves."

As Mr. Sydney Smith declared that no improvement would be made on a certain public work, unless, by good luck, a bishop should lose his life by it, it may not be without its uses, that a Governor's lady should experience the ups and downs of travel in India. We therefore submit, for the consideration of all whom it may concern, the following sketch of

A TRAVELLER'S BUNGALOW.

"A traveller's bungalow is one of the most wretched-looking abodes when no visitor is there. In each room there is a table, if it has three legs and half it

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is well. Should the chairs have backs, seats, and their usual number of legs, the traveller who brings none with him may congratulate himself.

"The small narrow cots are skeletons of beds denuded of all furniture, except dirty mosquitoe curtains with very open holes in them, large enough to admit a dragon-fly.

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Everybody travels with as many comforts as they can. Linen they must bring, and if they do not bring a cook, they will often have to put up with native fare.

"It is frequently the case that persons arrive at these wretched resting-places which are scarcely better than the durumsalas (native inns), who are far from affluent, and very ill, trying to " get home" before it is too late, and what inconveniences have such invalids to encounter! when (their few comforts being perhaps detained on the road,) they find an empty, dismantled chamber, a mud floor, a bed without furniture, and food from which the healthiest would turn with disrelish.

"People in Europe talk of the luxuries of the East.' It is but little known how much the wife of a subaltern in the Indian army undergoes, when she travels with young children, on arriving at one of these bungalows. I often think of the strange and melancholy scenes which have occurred in such places. "I heard, not long ago, of the following sad and touching inscription being found scratched with a nail on the wall of a room of a traveller's bungalow, at Kurrachee, in Scinde, close to one of the couches. Some of the words were

almost illegible.

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"The servants of the bungalow said, they knew of two gentlemen who had long lain ill in that room. One died, and was buried at Kurrachee; the other recovered, and went away; but who they were, they could not tell."

We have now given various extracts, exhibiting the very miscellaneous nature of the contents of her ladyship's Chow-Chow basket. With one more, considerably different from those we have hitherto submitted, we shall draw this notice to a close. It is an old maxim that honesty is the best policy; but there is a better policy still. It is generosity, unselfishness, self-denial : as is taught in the following legend.

NOW-LAKH OOMRAJ.

"Oomraj, a small village of the Deccan, near Poona, has, like many other places here, a very pretty tradition connected with it. It is called the history of Now-lakh Oomraj, or Oomraj of the 900,000.'

"Once upon a time, in the days of the Mahomedan kings, there was a very covetous king, who had a very beautiful wife. She was the only being in the world for whom he cared; the only thing he loved, except money. king's tax-gatherers oppressed the people, and denied them justice, they used to When the

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