The Taptee River.--Surat and its Environs.--The Borahs and Kholees
of Guzerat.--Baroda, the Capital of the Guicowars.--Fakeers, or
Relic-Carriers, of Baroda.--Cambay.--Mount Aboo.--Jain Temples on
Mount Aboo, etc.
The views along the Western Ghauts and the coast are very grand. We soon
lost sight of all their varied beauty, and in a couple of days entered
the splendid river Taptee, which flows broad and deep immediately under
the walls of the city of Surat.
Almost at the mouth of the Taptee stands a lovely little island;
opposite to this is a little town called Domus, a quaint,
homelike-looking place, where Europeans spend the hot months. The river
flows for miles through a richly-cultivated suburb of gardens,
plantations, and beautiful houses, till it reaches the city, which is
walled with bastions at certain points, but the walls and towers are
fast crumbling away. At one extremity stands the famous old castle of
Surat, about three hundred years old, looking older and more stained
with time and age than even the fortress of Damaun.
Surat has a double wall and twice twelve gates, inner and outer,
communicating with one another. But its history is even more varied and
complicated than its "world-protecting" walls and wooden-leaved gates.
It is written in the ruins found everywhere in the gardens, palaces of
the nawabs, rajahs, and peishwas, as well as in the factories of the
Dutch, French, Portuguese, and English, most of which are now
transformed into hospitals, lunatic asylums, hotels for European
travellers, or pleasure-houses and grounds for wealthy natives.
Here are also grand English and Dutch cemeteries, where many noted
English and Dutch lie magnificently entombed in stately mausoleums, in
order to impress the Oriental mind, which is always disposed to attach a
certain kind of sanctity to piles of brick, mortar, and stone, whether
priest, prophet, or knave lie interred beneath.
We tried to visit the "Pinjrapoore," or hospital for sick animals, here;
it seems to be arranged much on the same plan as that in Bombay, but
this place was too filthy to enter, and in that respect much inferior.
Attached to it are large granaries, where all the damaged grain of the
bazaars is piled up for the use of the sick animals in the hospital; and
this it is which has rendered this place a perfect pest-house of insects
and vermin of all kinds.
Fire-temples and towers of silence are numerous here, as Surat has a
large Parsee community, who have been established in this region ever
since the eighth century. The most curious and interesting people in
this part of the world are the Borahs, the Jains, and Buniahs.
The Borahs are divided into two classes, the traders and the
cultivators. They are Hindoos converted to Mohammedanism; they form the
most active and industrious cultivators of the soil, as well as cotton-
and cloth-merchants. Their dress, manners, and language are the same as
those of the Hindoos. Cotton is the chief staple. The Borahs occupy an
entire street in Surat, and it is especially distinguished as being the
cleanest in the native town. Their houses are spacious and well built,
with fine open balconies. Their women are well treated. They support
here a number of Mohammedan priests, a bishop--have a fine mosque
wherein to worship, and one of the best colleges in this part of the
country, where the Borah youths receive a thorough commercial education.
The Buniahs are almost identical with the Borahs in their trading and
commercial qualifications. They are the great grain-merchants here and
everywhere. They are also divided into three classes--the cultivators,
the wholesale merchant, and the petty retailer, who travels from village
to village with his grain-bags on his shoulders. The Buniahs, however,
are Hindoos in religion as well as by birth.
The Jains, of whom mention has already been made, are seen in great
numbers in the streets and bazaars. Their dress is a long white robe
descending in full folds from the shoulders to the feet, and over the
shoulders is thrown another long loose piece of white cloth; the head
and beard are closely shaven. But the most striking peculiarity is a bit
of white cloth of fine texture which they wear over the mouth to prevent
them from destroying, by inhaling into their lungs, the minutest insect
life. They are always found with a little broom in their hands, no
matter where they go, so as to sweep the ground before seating
themselves, with the same end in view--the preservation of all insect
life; for this purpose they walk very slowly with their eyes cast on the
ground. To destroy life, even unintentionally, is the inexpiable sin,
and a Jain will not drink any water until he has strained it, nor will
he take any meal or drink of any kind after sunset, lest he should
happen to devour some living thing. The Jains have some fine temples in
this city.
Surat was long in the possession of the Mohgul emperors. In 1842 the
last nawab died, and it passed into the hands of the East India Company.
It is still a great trading city; the surtee rassum, or manufactured
silk of Surat, is very beautiful; the gold and silver ornaments sold in
the bazaars are unique and of fine workmanship. Surat is also famous for
the weaving of many varieties of cotton cloths; these are usually woven
in small chequered patterns with bright and elegant borders. Potteries
are not only numerous, but some pottery of very fine form and quality is
sold in the bazaars and is said to be of home manufacture.
The last day we spent in Surat was passed in driving through the suburbs
in a native wagon drawn by a fine pair of humpbacked white bullocks
(zebus), who carried us rapidly over the ground. We alighted at the
palace of the last nawab, called at once the "gift of God" and the "seat
of oppression." Of its being the former there is no trace, but the
shadow of the latter name seems still to fall upon the partially
deserted place. Apart from the collection of Persian and Arabic
manuscripts to be seen in a room adjoining the palace of the nawab,
there is nothing to interest the curious visitor. With the removal of
the Moslem flag that once waved so proudly over the citadel of Surat the
glory of the Mohgul conquerors departed.
The Mohgul quarter of the city is gradually falling into decay; ruin and
desolation mark the spot where many a noble pile of Moslem dwellings
once stood. The very name of the Mohguls is almost a thing of the past,
save that in household song and story their deeds will ever cast behind
them a dark and terrible shadow.
We left Surat, or rather _Soo Rashtra_, "the pleasant country," seated
in a dhuinee, a native wagon on two wheels with a cloth canopy overhead,
and drawn by a pair of large, handsome humped oxen, with a Bheel guide,
the pundit, and two servants. We had traversed a large extent of
country, halted under trees by the roadside and at mean little
dhurrum-salas, without fear or molestation of any kind, with but few
detentions, and only one accident to our wagon, which was repaired
almost at once by applying to the headman of a village near by, who not
only sent us a blacksmith, but came out to see the work done himself.
The plan adopted in our travels through the Deccan we carried out in our
entire journeyings through Guzerat and back--_i. e._ to send the pundit
to the governor of the town or to the headman of the village to ask
escort and guide for the place itself as well as to the next station;
and in no instance were these unfaithful to the trust reposed in them.
When they quitted us at the appointed station we generally made them a
small present, which brought down upon us showers of blessings and
unqualified praise. I did not doubt, however, that our good-fortune in
this respect was owing to the dignified bearing and sanctified presence
of our Brahman pundit. For the first few miles from Surat to Ratanpoore,
"the Jewel City," the road was deep and heavy, and our wagon dragged
slowly along, but it was not long before we came out on a magnificent
park-like country, which is the characteristic of almost the whole vast
province lying west of the Deccan. It was delightful to hear our Bheel
guide singing in his deep sonorous voice as he trotted on by our side,
in which music he was joined occasionally by our driver. One of his
songs was intended to gratify European hearts and ears (with the "inam,"
or present, in prospect, I suppose), the chorus of which was as follows:
"Bur, bur, nashanee oorta hai,
Ingraje Bhadhar ki,
Mar lia rah Tipoo Sultan,
Wo kaya lurta, hârâm ki."
("Behold proud England's flag unfurl
And wave on every height.
Beaten low lies Tippoo Sultan;
With England who dare fight?")
This chorus was kept up with great animation until we reached the Jewel
City, which is named after the extensive carnelian-mines in its
neighborhood. Our measure of sleep at the miserable halting-place was
stinted, for we started at dawn to visit the mines, situated some
distance from the village along the slope of a picturesque hill. The
road was literally covered with discarded pieces of carnelian. The mines
were neither high nor deep. The entire face of the hill is perforated
with galleries or pits that run in every direction. The gems are found
imbedded in a slimy black clay holding numerous organic remains. In some
parts the pits are carried down thirty feet before the peculiar deposit
in which the carnelian abounds is reached. It is also found in many
other places here still unknown to Europeans, as the natives keep the
secret, as far as it is possible, to themselves and even from one
another. It was interesting to see the men working at the mines. They
were very poorly clad, with only a _langoutee_, or waist-cloth, round
them, and each division was superintended by a number of better-dressed
men called _sirdhars_, or "head lords." The stones are collected in
great quantities, then tried by means of another sharp stone prepared
for the purpose. If they chip easily they are discarded, but if they
have a firm, compact texture and a deep-black color, they are selected,
cleaned, and exposed on strips of rough straw mattings to the sun's rays
for the space of a year or more, since the longer they are thus exposed
the brighter the color and polish after baking. The process of baking
these stones is both curious and original. The rough stones are piled in
small heaps on the ground, which is slightly hollowed out to receive
them. Small earthen pots with holes in them are placed over each pile;
then a quantity of goat- or sheep-ordure is heaped up on each pot; it is
then kindled and allowed to smoulder all night. On the following
morning the stones are carefully examined, and if they have acquired the
deep bright tint peculiar to the carnelian known to commerce, they are
ready for the jeweller's polish; if not, they are once more subjected to
the fire. The shops in Baroda, Cambay, and Ahmedabâd have great
varieties of these stones for sale; for they are not only carved into
rings, beads, bangles, boxes, vases, bowls, and mouthpieces for pipes,
but idols for the Jain, Hindoo, and Buddhist temples are also fashioned
out of them.
Our journey from Ratanpoore to Baroda was through a very beautiful
country, and, though it is said to be infested with Kholee and Bheel
robbers, we passed through it without the least molestation. At one
point of the road not far from Baroda we espied a thick wood above which
towered the slender spires of some Hindoo temples. The moment these were
seen our pundit, driver, and Bheel escort craved permission to retire
for _puja_, or worship, for a few moments. The oxen were fastened to the
branch of a tree by the roadside, and we alighted and walked about until
our pious attendants had finished their devotions to the goddess
Bhawanee, enshrined even here as the favorite of the reigning Mahratta
kings.
Baroda, or Varodah, "the good water country," is now the capital of the
Guicowars, which name means, literally, "owner of heads of cattle." It
is the quaintest, the most densely populated, and independent city in
this province.
The first Guicowar, a peasant by the name of Pullahji, was employed as a
domestic in the service of the Peishwa Baji Roa. He soon raised himself
by means of his extraordinary military talents to the rank of a
commanding officer of the Peishwa's troops. Shortly after, having won
over the army, he declared his independence and established himself on
the throne of the Peishwas in Guzerat. Having sprung from the hardy
Khumbis, or cultivators of the soil, he was justly proud of his race,
and assumed the ancient title of Guicowar. Whenever opportunity offered,
Pullahji, bent on conquest, invaded the Peishwa's territories, carrying
pillage and disorder through the richest provinces of Nagpoor
Rajpootana. His successors, however, have been obliged to employ the aid
of the British troops to hold their own in these provinces, which are at
best but partly subjugated.
We crossed an old Hindoo bridge of curious structure consisting of
arches placed one over the other, and spanning an impetuous but
extraordinarily beautiful river still bearing the polished Sanskrit name
of _Vishwamitra_, or "the friendly preserver." It flows strong and swift
for many miles through a deep rocky channel. Its banks are singularly
striking in some parts, rising on either side from fifty to sixty feet.
Its waters, instead of appearing friendly, seemed dark and turbulent,
not unlike the barbaric city which stretched along its banks. Temples,
mosques, tombs, mausoleums, and dark, sombre-looking fortresses are seen
everywhere; great flights of stone steps lead to the fast-flowing river,
and all day long these are crowded with men and women washing, bathing,
or filling their water-jars. The suburbs of Baroda extend for miles, and
in the most densely crowded part of the capital the streets are narrow
and crooked, the houses mostly of wood, but built with a view of
architectural effect. Some are almost like pretty Swiss châlets, and
others not unlike Italian villas. At the cross-roads and in various
parts of the streets and lanes are seen queer little temples with the
oddest of gods and goddesses enshrined in them--deities of the woods,
fountains, streams, and even of the streets--and over these fluttered
the gay-colored flags of the Guicowar. As for the inhabitants of Baroda,
as seen in the streets, verandahs, and shops, they are quite
characteristic. Specimens of every Eastern nationality may be seen here,
and, what is more, in the martial atmosphere of the place they seemed
more like freebooters, murderers, and warriors than like the simple
citizens of a great agricultural district such as Guzerat presents
outside of her cities and towns.
The city proper, or rather the citadel, is walled. It is entered by huge
gateways guarded by soldiers, and made even more imposing by the lofty
round towers that crown it on either side. It is divided into four
portions, three of which are occupied by the nobility of the court of
Guzerat, and the other by the palaces and buildings of the Guicowar
himself. The antechamber of the palace is a huge stone structure
supporting a many-storied wooden balcony, from the centre of which rises
a lofty pyramidal clock-tower painted in various colors and looking
fantastic beyond description. Here we saw the Guicowar going to worship
at some temple; he was preceded by a number of led horses and elephants
splendidly caparisoned; then came his standard borne on a great
elephant, followed by the Guicowar himself. After him came men on foot
in scarlet dresses, and more elephants. The elephants here are trained
for riding, hunting, war, and even as executioners and combatants.
The English station is very picturesquely situated, and is purely
European in appearance. The contrast is all the more striking after
seeing the citadel of the Guicowar. It is on the north bank of the river
Vishwamitra, and not far from the great highway are the British
residency and travellers' bungalow, where we were most comfortably
lodged.
One of the most ancient and curious temples to be seen here is situated
at the west end of the suburbs of Baroda. It is called Ghai Dawale, "the
cow temple." The front is imposing. A portico with granite pillars
admits you into a series of vaulted chambers, and there are numberless
idols of gods and goddesses enshrined in niches, with offerings of
flowers before them and red paint sprinkled over their persons. A great
many corridors lead to other chambers, cells, vaults, and mysterious
retreats that have sprung up round it owing to the vast number of
priestesses called Páthars attached to it. Another feature of Baroda are
the magnificent _bowries_, or wells, that are found here; some are in
themselves most exquisite pieces of architecture, and may be called
temples built over reservoirs. The entrance to these well-temples are by
five or more pavilions; thence a flight of stone steps leads to a second
dome, which is arched, and under the outer dome, which is in its turn
supported by lofty pillars and is pyramidal, then more steps and more
pillars, until the level of the water is reached, which is again covered
by a last and beautiful dome supported by innumerable short pillars. The
largest of these wells in Baroda is called _Nou Laki_, or "Nine Laks,"
from its having cost that amount in building. It was erected by
Suleiman, the governor of Baroda in A. H. (Mohammedan) 807. The water is
very delicious, and here people from all parts of the country assemble
to drink--mendicant Brahmans, gossains for alms, and fakeer carriers of
relics to trade. The latter is not a mendicant, but a religious trader,
whose chief claim to sanctity consists in the marks he wears on his brow
and nose. These men go from place to place carrying their curious relics
in curtained baskets slung across their shoulders; their shirts and
cumberbunds are filled with balls, beads, and pins made from the wood of
the _toolie_[85] and other sacred trees. They have beads of sandal and
other woods strung into necklaces, bracelets, armlets, and anklets, mud
figures of gods and goddesses made of the sacred clay of the Ganges, the
Godaveri, and the Brahmapootra, precious bones of saints and prophets
carved into amulets, and any quantity of yellow threads as a
preservative against the evil eye. Women and children flock round these
relic-carriers, and in return for grain, cloth, silver, and gold they
will fasten a small yellow thread, a bead, an amulet, or a precious bit
of some dead saint's bone--these, however, they part with only for gold
or silver--around their wrists, arms, neck, and feet, to preserve the
wearer not only from the evil eye, which is much dreaded in the East,
but from all diseases and from sudden death.
Once more in our native wagon, with a fresh guide and escort we started
for Cambay, the Khambayat of the ancients. We passed through a luxuriant
country, for Guzerat is indeed the garden of the East. The thriving
villages enclosed with great hedges of prickly pear; the pretty little
wooden houses of moderate size, all built on the same plan, with farms,
or cotton-plantations, or fruit-orchards of mangoes, tamarinds, etc.,
attached to them; the two-storied houses of the priest, the village
schoolmaster, and the headman, with their high verdant hedges shutting
off the house from curious eyes and separating it from its
neighbors,--this all makes up a pretty picture. In the centre of these
Guzerat villages there is generally a Hindoo temple, and a space fenced
or hedged in where all the villagers assemble for prayers, celebration
of holidays, and other festival gatherings.
The Guzerati women are handsome, well-formed, and remarkably
industrious; many of them do all their weaving and spinning at home.
Their chief food consists of eggs, fowls, milk, cream, and cheese: some
of the Guzerat Brahmans will eat fowl and even game. The men are
well-formed, athletic, and of fairer complexion than the natives of
Southern India.
Cambay is a city of great antiquity and well known to early European
travellers. In 1543, Queen Elizabeth of England sent a mission to
Khambayat, with instructions to proceed thence to China. The Hindoos
state that on the site of Cambay stood twelve hundred and eighty years
ago an ancient Brahman city--according to Forbes, the Camanes of
Ptolemy. It derives its present name, however, from a copper pillar,
called "Khamb," dedicating it to the presiding deity of the place, the
earth-goddess Dèvi; the date on this pillar is a little before the
eleventh century of our era. Cambay has an air of extreme sluggishness
and rapid decay, and one cannot fail to see its changeful history in its
numerous foundations. Everywhere are remnants of many cities and many
kinds and styles of architecture, built one above the other.
The travellers' bungalow here comprises the upper stories of a spacious
stone building, once the English factory. It overlooks the entire city,
which is built on an eminence, with its old walls perforated with holes
for musketry, its fifty-two towers and ten gates guarded by soldiers,
and also looks out upon the great Gulf of Cambay, than which I know
nothing more formidable in nature. At low tide for miles out one sees
only a vast plain, moist, strewn with shells, and intersected here and
there with deep hollows and shifting sandbanks; but when the tide
changes, and long before the waters appear in sight, are heard
tremendous sounds, crash after crash, thunder after thunder, of the
advancing tide, which comes in leaping like a huge monster, thirty to
forty feet high, and breaks with terrific violence against the shore,
carrying everything before it. Ships and native vessels anchor at a
point some miles down the gulf, where the tides are less strong.
Cambay has witnessed many a dreadful scene of carnage by the Mohguls,
Hindoos, Persians, and Rajpoots. The only objects of real interest here
are subterranean Jain temples; they are situated in the Parsee district.
The exterior, or rather upper part, of the temple would be insignificant
but for the imposing statue of Parswanath, sculptured in white marble,
surrounded by a host of smaller images, many of which are jewelled and
are sold as household deities. Our guide pointed to us a queer narrow
opening at the side which led by means of steep steps to the underground
temples which the Jains, like the early Christians, built for purposes
of midnight assembly and worship in order to escape the persecution of
the Mohammedan conquerors of Guzerat.
Emerging from one of the gates of Cambay, we wended our way through
ruins which are scattered all about the neighborhood. Now a broad paved
pathway, now crumbling tombs, anon ancient structures, a broken archway,
a cluster of roofless pillars, or, again, dilapidated temples, mark the
sites where stood rich and quaint habitations, temples, or pavilions of
the ancient Hindoos. The richness and luxuriance of nature seems to have
vanished also from these ruinous suburbs, and our road was no longer
beautiful, but lay through a deep sandy plain until we entered the
ancient capital of the great sultans, Ahâmâdabâd or Ahmedabâd, one of
the unrivalled cities of the East.
The travellers' bungalow is a pleasant place, and everything in the way
of living is as cheap and good as one could possibly desire. We engaged
a very intelligent guide, who spoke Hindostanee well, to take us to the
places best worth seeing.
Our first drive was to Mirzapoor to see the Ranee-Ki-Musjid, or "the
Queen's Mosque," an enchanting spot. The moment we alighted in front of
it a very old fakeer, with a multitude of necklaces round his neck, came
out to greet us, and for a rupee showed us about the place. The mosque
and mausoleum here are both beautiful marble structures, erected to the
memory of a princess, Rupavati. Her tomb, which is richly ornamented, is
of a mixture of Moslem and Hindoo style of architecture. The dome is
magnificently fretted, and pillars standing at each tower form a
graceful colonnade around the tomb. But perhaps the chief and peculiar
beauty was the situation of these partially ruined monuments, amid a
wild tangle of fruit and other trees where birds, squirrels, and monkeys
find a pleasant home. The second mosque and tomb are not far off,
dedicated to the memory of a Mohammedan queen called Ranee
Sipra-Ki-Musjid, "the Queen Sipra's Mosque," one of the favorite wives
of Ahmed Shah, the founder of the city. These are exquisite buildings
too, and in the finest Saracenic style; the pillars and minarets have an
air of wonderful loftiness and beauty.
The Kanch Ki-Musjid, or "Glass Mosque," and the Jummah-Musjid, are both
remarkably beautiful structures. The Glass Mosque, so called from the
whiteness and purity of the marble of which parts of it was built, has a
graceful dome after the Turkish style, terminating in a crescent. The
Jummah-Musjid is in the vicinity of the great street, "Manik Chouk,"
which contains the chief bazaars and markets of Ahmedabâd. It is an
oblong building, with a fine open courtyard containing a reservoir for
washing the feet of the worshipper before entering the precincts of the
temple. The light elegant domes of this building are supported by
graceful pillars, and its open arches, minarets, and façades are most
exquisitely ornamented.
The grand royal cemetery of Sarkhej lies several miles from the city of
Ahmedabâd--a wondrous ruin, the ancient summer residence of Ahmed Shah.
To approach it one is obliged to cross a fine pebbly stream fordable at
points, called the _Saber-Muttee_, properly _Safer Muttee_, "pure sand."
The road leading to these vast ruined structures of palaces, hareems,
mosques, tombs, and gardens is still paved in some parts.
We were admitted by a saintly custodian, who became affable the moment
silver coins were dropped into his half-open palm. Gury Baksh, or "the
bestower of virtue," the spiritual adviser of Ahmed Shah, lies interred
here beneath a splendid monument which attracts crowds of pilgrims
annually. The tomb and mosque were completed by Khouttub-ood-din, the
grandson of Ahmed Shah. The city is founded on the site of a very
ancient and populous Hindoo town dedicated to and called after the
goddess Ashawhalla, and is built out of the materials of one or more
Hindoo cities which Ahmed Shah sacked and plundered, carrying away the
stones, pillars, and monuments bit by bit.
Ahmedabâd was given up to the East India Company in 1818, and has been
held by it ever since. It is impossible to do anything like justice to
the beauties and attractions of this magnificent Mohammedan city. It
abounds in stately monuments, mosques, mausoleums, palaces, great
reservoirs, and gardens, in a more or less ruinous condition, but which
show a high degree of civilization and point to a period when the Mohgul
occupation of India was at its highest prosperity.
Leaving Ahmedabâd, we started for Mount Aboo, a place very little known,
but one of the most beautiful spots in the world. The magnificent
province of Guzerat is separated from Marwar on the north-east by a
range of mountains in which are Mount Aboo and a beautiful
mountain-lake called Aboogoosh. Passing through Desa, a military station
for European troops, and across the Bhanas River, our road lay for many
weary days through patches of jungle more or less dense until we found
ourselves at the pretty little Marwar village of Andara, which lies at
the foot of Mount Aboo. There is a good path from the village to the
summit of the mount, and here a beautiful lake, called after the saint
"Aboo," who is said to have excavated the basin in which it lies with
his nails, and it is therefore called Nakhi Taloa, "Nail Lake." It is an
exquisitely shaded bit of water, and in its vicinity are found wonderful
Jain temples built of pure white marble. Not far from this spot is the
sanitarium for travellers, where we took up our abode, barracks for
convalescent European soldiers, and a quiet, unpretending little
Protestant church.
The most important of the cavern-temples in the neighborhood are the Tij
Phal and the Veinahl Sah. One is dedicated to a Jain saint,
Vrishab-Deva. It stands alone in a square court, and all around it are
little cells with deities enshrined in them. A number of strange-looking
priests worship here, making offerings of saffron, lamps fed with ghee,
and incense in small brass pots. One priest deliberately asked us for
some _brandy_, and, as we had none to give him, proposed instantly to go
back with us if we would give him some, because he suffered from pains
in his stomach.
The temple dedicated to Parswanath, the great Jain teacher and saint, is
an exquisite bit of architecture built of the purest white marble. From
one of the vaulted roofs is suspended a cluster of flowers resembling
the half-blown lotus, sculptured out of the rock; its cup and petals are
so beautifully carved that they are almost as delicate and transparent
as the flower itself. Everywhere the flowers, fruits, birds, and
animals indicate that the artists must have taken their models from
nature. There is also a fine Rajpoot fortress here. The dog-rose, a
beautiful Indian flower called _seotee_, the pomegranate, the wild
grape, the apricot, are among the indigenous products of Mount Aboo. The
mango tree also abounds here, the white and yellow jessamine, the
balsam, and the golden champa, which is sacred to the gods; but the
rarest and most beautiful of all the plants is a parasite called by the
natives _ambathri_, with lovely blue and white flowers, creeping,
entwining, and blossoming around the largest forest trees.
It was a beautiful morning on which we returned to Andara. It was not
without deep regret that we bade adieu to this charming mountain-region
and the Jain temples enshrined within its heart. We turned again and
again to take a last look at the bas-reliefs and the ornaments wrought
here with such grace and delicacy of design as to become the despair of
our more impetuous artists, before we could make up our minds to quit
those extraordinarily beautiful monuments for ever.
[Illustration: NATIVE PASSENGER BOAT ON THE HOOGLY.]
FOOTNOTE:
[85] A native name for a tree which is found in great abundance in this
part of India, and held very sacred.