THE Saturday No 163. UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE COMMITTEE OF GENERAL LITERATURE AND EDUCATION, APPOINTED BY THE SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE. brought from the Ganges. This is thrown over the idol every morning, and then sold at a great price to the devout who can afford to purchase so costly a blessing. The persons who make their periodical pilgrimages to the holy river, generally form processions, exhibit HINDOO PILGRIMS. THERE is no country upon earth where pilgrims and devotees of every description abound so much as in Hindoostan. Will this be a matter of surprise, when it is known, that the gods of the Hindoo Pantheon amount in number to three hundred and thirtying rather an agreeable scene to the traveller. They millions. Not a day passes in this "land of sunshine and of storm," but some festival is celebrated; and the entire lives of thousands of enthusiasts are passed in performing the revolting discipline of a devotion, which consists not only of numerous absurd and fantastic ceremonies, but frequently of the most profane and sanguinary rites. Of the multitude of devotees and pilgrims in India, some idea may be formed, when it has been ascertained, that in the province of Bengal, alone, the number of mendicants-and mendicity is here a religious vocation-amounts to upwards of two millions. These persons are entirely supported by alms. Thus, supposing each person to obtain only a shilling per week, the gross sum would amount to more than five millions annually, and this, too, extracted, for the most part, from the small earnings of the labouring classes, of which poverty is at once the distinction and the heritage. The extent to which mendicity is carried, even among the Brahmins, in Bengal especially, is scarcely to be conceived; and the airs of authority which these sturdy beggars assume, are as arrogant as they are disgusting. Such is their ascendency over the minds of the superstitious population, that they levy, as has been already shown, an enormous tax in this way, almost universally, and from that portion of the community which can with difficulty procure the common necessaries of life. Begging holds a conspicuous place among the religious obligations of the Hindoos; with some classes, it forms the main feature of their spiritual discipline; indeed, none of their sacred community can attain the supreme rank of spiritual distinction, except through this despicable occupation. The Yogues, so highly esteemed for their sanctity, are, universally, mendicants; and so complete is their influence over the vulgar, that these latter esteem it an enviable privilege to be permitted to administer to the necessities of those holy men. It is considered a positive degradation for a devotee of any repute to submit to the drudgery of an honest trade. Thus it happens, that these sacred persons are the most indolent, arrogant, and too often the most sensual wretches alive. It is impossible to help feeling that the mendicant fraternities, belonging to a branch of the Christian church, must have derived their origin from these Eastern idolaters. The coincidence is too strong to be accidental. The begging friars may certainly claim the sanction of heathen, though they cannot of apostolic antiquity. During the cold season, pilgrimages from all parts, especially of Upper India, are performed to the Ganges. The roads on the banks of the river, at this period, are crowded with devotees, proceeding in large groups to the holy stream. They are usually well dressed, carrying on their shoulders a thick bamboo, from which, at either end, is suspended a frame, generally of coarse ratan-work, containing a spherical wicker-basket, covered, and filled with provisions and other necessaries for the journey. Upon their return, globular jars of earthenware are placed within these baskets, and the sacred water of the Ganges is carried in them, frequently to the distance of many hundred miles, for the services of their temples. There is a pagoda on the island of Ramisseram, scarcely above a degree from the southern extremity of the Indian peninsula, in which no water is used but what is are attired in their newest garments; their baskets are adorned with feathers from the tail of the venerated peacock, and each party has one among them of superior dignity, who proceeds under an arched screen, ornamented internally with bells, and externally decorated with peacocks' plumes. "At nightfall," says Captain Luard *, "many hundreds bivouac together in the magnificent mango-groves on the road-side. road-side. After sunset, in the cool of the evening, at the ringing of a bell, they assemble in groups for prayers, and the noisy camp is instantly converted into a silent and most imposing scene of devotion." These pilgrimages are not confined to the poor, destitute and uninformed, to whom the excitement of superstition is a welcome relief from the actual bereavements to which a most pernicious social system so sadly dooms the vast majority of the Hindoo population; but the rich, the independent, and the learned, likewise swell the processions of devotion annually made to so many revolting shrines. The men represented in the print, resemble what are called Bangy Wallahs, a superior order of porters, distinguished from the Coolies, the lowest of that class, by carrying their burdens upon the shoulder, while the latter always bear them upon their heads. So rigidly are these distinctive customs observed in India, that in many cases a Bangy Wallah would rather forfeit his life, than submit to the degradation of bearing, like the cooly, a load upon his head. During their pilgrimages, the crowds, at particular places, are so great, that a year never passes without the sacrifice of a vast number of lives, and those who happen to be the victims upon these occasions, are considered fortunate in having obtained so holy a martyrdom. Although the Ganges is every where sacred, yet there are particular spots especially devoted to pilgrimages, and such are holy above all others. Hurdwar or Haridwar, as it is more properly designated, is the most venerated place in the estimation of all pious Hindoos. It is situated on the west side of the Ganges, where it issues into the plains of Hindoostan, from the northern hills. Haridwar signifies the Gate of God, the word Hari being an appellative applied to each of the three persons in the Hindoo triad, although more usually to Vishnu. At the At some of these annual assemblies the crowd is prodigious. In 1796, it was said to amount to upwards of two millions and a half, although the place does not probably contain a thousand houses; but the great majority of visiters sleep in the open air, under the shelter of trees, or under rude tents, during the continuance of the concourse. festival in 1814, several hundred persons were crushed to death, owing to their impetuosity in a struggle for priority in taking the sacred bath. The street leading to the river was so narrow, and the rush so tremendous, that many were suffocated, and others trampled to death by the pressure of the crowd. Since this awful catastrophe, the passage, in which the principal mischief took place, has been enlarged by command of the British government, in order to facilitate the access to the river. An additional flight of steps has been also built, so as to obviate all likelihood of a similar accident. It created a great sensation at the time, among the superstitious In his Series of Views in India, to which beautiful work we are again indebted for our frontispiece. : devotees, who were unable to account for so severe a visitation while some of the more fanatic among them looked upon it as an involuntary holocaust on the part of the sufferers, preordained by Siva himself, and likely to render him the more propitious towards those who had survived this wholesale destruction. During these annual meetings, the most deadly contests frequently take place between the votaries of Vishnu and Siva, and so sanguinary have these religious conflicts occasionally been, that, as I was assured by a Brahmin of Bengal, upwards of eight thousand persons were destroyed upon one occasion, somewhere I think about the latter end of the last century, within the short space of three days. Benares*, or Casi the Splendid, is the next sacred spot. This celebrated city, is said, in the Brahminical traditions, to have been built of gold, but in consequence of the sins of the people, it became stone, and latterly, owing to their increasing wickedness, it has become clay. No earthquake is ever felt within its holy limits, and in consequence of its peculiar position, it escaped destruction during a partial overwhelming of the world. With such a high character for sanctity, it is no wonder that Benares is a favourite place of resort for devout worshippers, and half-crazed enthusiasts. The whole face of the city which lines the bank of the river, is one continued series of ghauts, for the accommodation of Pilgrims. Allahabad is another sacred place. "Here, when a pilgrim arrives," says Hamilton, "he first sits down on the brink of the river, and has his head and body shaved, so that each hair may fall into the water, the sacred writings promising him one million of years' residence in heaven for every hair thus deposited. After shaving, he bathes, and the same day, or the next, performs the obsequies of his deceased ancestors." -The most celebrated place for pilgrimages in India, is the Temple of Jagganath, in the Province of Orissa, of which a detailed account was given in the first Volume of the Saturday Magazine. It is difficult to ascertain the number of victims yearly sacrificed under the wheels of the ponderous car which bears the Idol of Jagganath, but they are some years said to exceed two thousand, though this is not, I believe, common. Numbers of pilgrims perish on the road to this sanguinary shrine, and their bodies generally remain unburied. On a plain by the river," says Buchanan, "near the pilgrims' caravansera at this place, there are more than a hundred skulls. The dogs, jackals, and vultures seem to live on human prey." Nothing can exceed the disgusting Saturnalia here witnessed during the procession of the sacred car. It is truly horrible to behold those immolations of which Southey has given so just a picture in his immortal poem, The Curse of Kehama. A thousand pilgrims strain Arm, shoulder, breast, and thigh, with might and main, And scarce can draw along the enormous load. And calling on the God, Their self-devoted bodies there they lay On Jagganath they call COMPARISON OF MEN WITH ANIMALS. Or all the species of animals which exist on the surface of the earth, man alone exhibits an excessive disparity in his attainments at remote periods of his history. In animals, each individual attains the complete use of all its faculties; and this, even though successive generations of the tribe be separated from each other by a long lapse of time. With many animals, nothing in the shape of instruction is needed. The insect-tribes at once proceed in the course that nature has designed for them. No sooner does the egg burst, than the larva sets itself about the business of its existence; it swims expertly through the water, and seeks out its appropriate food. Led by an unerring instinct, it approaches the surface of the pool, or climbs the stalk of some aquatic plant, and ere the spectator has time to mark the change, it launches off into an untried element, and is undistinguished amid the thousands that have had the long experience of an hour. Some again wake to life in the tough bark, and eat their vermicular way through the sap-wood; till when the metamorphosis draws near, they suck the outerrind, cut it with their mandibles, elevate their elytra, unfold from beneath their delicate wings, and use with the utmost ease their newly-acquired powers and senses. Ascending (as it is termed) the scale of existence, we find the elements of tuition begin to appear. The birds, for the most part, educate their young; they lead them by short flights to seek their food, and only abandon them after their powers are fully developed. The same remark holds good of many of the quadrupeds. In all cases, however, the powers arrived at are nearly the same, with each individual of a species. But when we reach the top of the scale, how different! The young of the human species receives not merely that tuition which is common to all mammalia, but also a distinct kind of education, which conveys the fruits of the experience of all the preceding generations. Man lives to add to that experience, and though his physical powers reach to their full developement, the entire man knows nothing of maturity. Powers of which our ancestors were ignorant, are now wielded by us, while we, in our turn, are opening the way for other and more transcendent powers to be employed by our descendants. The burrowing bee still uses the same instrument to pierce the downright shaft, and to cluster round it the beautifully smoothed cells. Still she selects the hard-beaten soil, whence the wind may sweep the dust that otherwise would betray her labours. The sand-spider still uses the same cement to form the walls of her retreat, and to weave her branchy net. But man is found at one time burying himself in the ground, at another tearing the rocks asunder to rear magnificent palaces. Here he draws his sustenance from the ocean, there he cultivates the ground; here he clothes himself in the skin of the wild beast, there he wears the delicate web, and prides himself in the splendour of his apparel. With man there is no permanence; every thing is changing, and each season adds to his powers and comfort. He seems to possess an endless variety of appetites, that are only called into action as opportunity offers for their gratification; there lurks within him an immense variety of powers, of which only a few are called into active use by any individual. Among animals the history of an individual is almost the history of the race; but the story of the life of man is ever changing; and the mode of living of one nation appears incredible to another. possessed of a highly muscular and pliable form, 163-2 Man is capable of enduring long and vigorous exertion; the tenderness of his limbs prohibits the direct employment of his powers. The animals are invariably supplied with instruments fit for the various operations they have to perform. The bee has the proboscis to reach the nectary; the burrowing animals have claws for digging the earth, and the beasts of prey for tearing their food. But man works by tools. The capability of employing inanimate matter, of making it, at it were, a part of himself, is peculiar to man; only faint traces of that power are to be perceived among the animal tribes. In man it is completely developed; for, on reflection, we at once perceive that almost every operation which we perform, is done by the assistance of tools of one kind or another. [Edinburgh Philosophical Journal.] THE WATER OF THE NILE. THE water of Egypt, (says the Abbé Mascrier,) is so delicious, that one would not wish the heat should be less, nor to be delivered from the sensation of thirst. The Turks find it so exquisitely charming that they excite themselves to drink of it by eating salt. It is a common saying among them, that if Mohammed had drunk of it, he would have begged God not to have died, that he might always have done it. When the Egyptians undertake the pilgrimage of Mecca, or go out of their country on any other account, they speak of nothing but the pleasure they shall find at their return, in drinking the Nile water. There is nothing to be compared to this satisfaction; it surpasses in their esteem that of seeing their relations again, and their families. All those who have tasted this water, allow that they never met with the like in any other place. When a person drinks of it for the first time, it seems difficult to believe that it is not a water prepared by art. It has something in it so inexpressibly agreeable and pleasing to the taste, that it deserves that rank among waters that Champagne has among wines. But its most valuable quality is that it is exceedingly salutary. It never incommodes, let it be drunk in what quantity it may; this is so true that it is no uncommon thing to see some persons drink three buckets of it in a day, without inconvenience! It is right to observe that the water of the Nile is that which is alone intended in these high encomiums. Wellwater in Egypt is detestable and unwholesome. Fountains are so rare that they are a kind of prodigy in that country. Rain-water it would be vain to attempt preserving, as scarcely any falls in Egypt How peculiarly forcible and expressive are the words of Moses to Pharaoh. "The Egyptians shall lothe to drink of the water of the river." That water in which they so much delighted,-that which they preferred to all other water in the world, and to which they had been so long accustomed, should become so hateful, that they would turn away from it in disdain, and instead of it drink wellwater, which, in their country, is, of all other kinds of water, the most detestable ! O. N. [HARMER'S Observations.] THERE is this advantage in the pursuit of science, that it tends to generate liberality of sentiment, and destroy those prejudices which divide nations far more effectually than any barrier of nature. Science is of no country, and its followers, wherever born, constitute a wide and diffusive community, and are linked together by ties of brotherhood and interest, which political hostility cannot sever.-T. H. As surely as God is good, so surely there is no such thing as necessary evil. For by the religious mind, sickness, and pain, and death, are not to be accounted evils. Moral evils are of your own making; and undoubtedly, the greater part of them may be prevented. Deformities of mind, as of body, will sometimes occur. Some voluntary cast-aways there will always be, whom no fostering kindness and no parental care can preserve from self-destruction; but if any are lost for want of care and culture, there is a sin of omission in the society to which they belong.SOUTHEY. THE BEE ANd the thistlE-DOWN. A FABLE. hing.} I ENVY not the man who draws 'Tis one thing for a being form'd "Tis one thing, seeing round us rise Now to the heroes of my lay: "The good ship vent'ring on the main, M. No. V. NORRIS CASTLE. THERE is certainly no part of England which presents, within so limited a space, such a vast variety of attractions as the Isle of Wight. The peculiarly healthy character of its climate, the singular beauty of its varied scenery, as well as the great facilities here afforded for the enjoyment of the sea, are amongst the causes which bring together, year after year, crowds of visiters to its shores. We cannot then wonder that this highly-favoured spot should have been more than once selected for the temporary sojourn of that youthful Princess, The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her! to whom we necessarily look, in God's own good time, (may it be long before it come,) to watch over, and, as far as it is permitted to mortals, to direct the destinies of our beloved native country. Nor could, perhaps, a more suitable mansion have been found in the island for the royal residence than that of which we give above a very faithful representation, from a drawing made of it in 1830. And sure we are, that, independent of any other claims which Norris Castle may have to our notice, either from the natural beauties of its situation, or the picturesque character of the building, the honour thus conferred on this noble edifice, cannot fail to invest it with a no common degree of interest. This Castle occupies a most beautiful part of the woodland tract, which extends on the northern side of the island, along the shores of the Solent Sea from East Cowes to St. Helen's. It was originally built by Lord Henry Seymour, from the designs of Mr. Wyatt, and professing to be in imitation of an ancient castle of the Norman style, is of no small dimensions. Its favourable position has been thus admirably described by Sir H. Englefield. "Seated on the steep descent of the coast to the Solent Sea, it perhaps commands a view of that strait, superior in beauty to any other point in the island. To the east, Portsmouth, crowded with shipping, is in full view, and the richest line of the woody coast of the island from Barton to Nettlestone, appears in long and varied perspective. To the north, the Southampton river is seen in its whole extent, and the town of Southampton, with its spires and towers, though at more than ten miles' distance, is no inconsiderable object. The woods of the New Forest, clothe the view to the west; while Calshot Castle, on the point of its long bank of shingle, stands boldly out amidst the waves, and marks the separation between the Solent sea and Southampton river. The house is of a very noble general form, and its clustering towers, in every point of view, particularly when seen from the sea, are a striking and commanding object, and a most splendid addition to the general scenery of the coast. The choice of both the form and site of the mansion, reflects the highest honour on the taste of the noble owner." Few persons, upon viewing the Castle from a little distance, would imagine it to be a mere modern production; for the massive towers by which it is surmounted, rising as they do from amongst the mantling woods which surround it, present to the eye a semblance of the utmost grandeur and strength; and whilst the materials of which the edifice was constructed, were themselves so prepared as to possess a prematurely weather-stained appearance, the extraordinarily rapid growth of the ivy that envelops some even of its loftiest portions, serves still more, perhaps, to impress the whole with an air of the most venerable antiquity. In the interior, there is little to be seen, but the arrangement of the apartments is considered to be admirable. Over a door in the passage, is the history of the Seymour family, in Heraldry. One of the symbols represents the marriage of Henry the Eighth, with Lady Jane Seymour, from whom Lord Seymour was descended. The grounds, which are beautifully varied by gentle rise and fall, are all laid out; and most interesting views of the sea and surrounding country, present themselves in every direction amongst the trees. D. I. E. |