Cuttack, December 10.

I have been to Midnapore and back again. Whilst I was at Balasore information was brought in that one hundred and fifty or two hundred elephants had come down into the paddy-fields about twelve miles from Balasore, and that they were destroying the crops. Two or three of the Europeans there wanted to make up a party to go and attack them; I should very much like to have gone with them, but could not afford the time; so the proposition fell to the ground.

It is dangerous sport, but very exciting. The elephant is invulnerable except at one point, and that is a small hollow in the middle of the forehead. I said invulnerable, but that is an improper word; I mean, that that little spot is the only point where you can hit him fatally. Fancy an enormous elephant charging at full speed down a narrow path, with dense jungle on either side, and the sportsman standing still till he comes almost close, and then aiming at the forehead. Suppose he misses the one little spot—the elephant seizes him with his trunk, dashes him to the ground, and then kneels upon and crushes him; that is to say, if it is a fierce male elephant. The tusks of a large one are worth fifty pounds.

JUGGERNAT'H FESTIVAL.

The sight of the dead pilgrims by the roadside in this part of India is very dreadful; they go to Juggernat'h by hundreds, or rather by thousands. At the grand festival in June this year, when the car of Juggernat'h is dragged from the temple to his country house, there were present at least eighty thousand pilgrims from all parts of India, who each make large offerings to the idol, and during their stay are not allowed to eat any food but what has been prepared in the temple by the priests. Of course, for this food a most exorbitant price is charged, and at the same time it is of so inferior a quality that numbers died of cholera in consequence of eating it. Many of the pilgrims when they leave Pooree have not a pice left, and literally lie down and die of starvation by the roadside. The instant they are dead they are surrounded by jackals, dogs, and vultures, who quickly peel all the flesh from the bones: it is a horrid sight, but one which is too frequent to create surprise.

To the support of this temple our Christian government pays 6000l. a-year, whilst at other places it supports one, two, or more priests. Some will scarcely understand all the arguments by which this pernicious support of idolatry is defended. The principal reason given is, that, when we took possession of the country, we found a number of heathen temples, supported out of the produce of certain lands which were appropriated to their service; and that we, having taken possession of those lands, are bound to support the same temples by money derived from our own revenue. When the Roman Catholics conquered a country, their first object was to extirpate idolatry; when the Mohammedans waged war, they did it in order to destroy the idols of the heathens; but we encourage and protect all those wicked and evil superstitions.

Terrible as is the sight of the mutilated bodies of the pilgrims, it is not to me half so shocking as their thanks when they are relieved. As I travel, some poor wretch, who has more the appearance of a skeleton than a human being, comes to the side of the palanquin, and cries in Hindustanee, "Oh, great king, have mercy! I have been to Juggernat'h, and I have no rice. I have not tasted food, O great king, for three days. Oh, great king, give me some cowries to buy some rice!" I give the man a pice or two, and then he exclaims, "May Juggernat'h bless you, O great being! May Juggernat'h make you prosperous!" This invocation of a blessing from an idol sounds most frightful. The horrors of the roadside scene I will not describe—they are too fearful.

The above account reminds me of the exaggerated manner of expression in use among the Eastern nations. I will give another instance of it, premising that it is the usual style of language employed by the natives towards their European masters. At Midnapore, the other day, I wanted to call on the commanding officer; I accordingly got into a tanjore,—that is, the body of a gig, supported on two poles, and carried by men. As they took me up, I told them to go to the Colonel Sahib's; they spoke together for a few minutes, and then one of them said in Hindustanee, "O representative of God, your slaves do not know where the Colonel Sahib lives."

"Well, do you know where the Salt-Agent Sahib lives?"

"Yes, O representative of God."

"Then take me there."

I had turned away a domestic for being impertinent—a case of very rare occurrence amongst the natives. He was my own personal attendant, and an excellent servant, but I would not allow him to be insolent, and therefore discharged him at once. For weeks this man stood at the gate of my compound, ran for miles by the side of my palanquin when I went out in it, and, if he saw me walking, threw himself on the ground at full length before me, extending his hands clasped over his head, and then crept or rather glided on his stomach close to me, kissed my feet, placed them on his head, and, whilst the tears ran from his eyes, exclaimed in Hindustanee, "O great being! O representative of God, have pity on your slave! punish me, whip me, but let me be your slave, O great king!" One day he brought his two little boys with him, and made them also kneel at my feet. He was an old man with a long beard, and he rubbed it in the dust, and cried and sobbed. I looked at his sons, and thought of my own children, and, as I considered he had been sufficiently punished, I told him to get up and I would try him again. He raised himself on his knees, and kissed the hem of my garment.[5] He is now the most useful servant I have. He is a sheikh—Sheikh Ibrahim is his name, and he had served every one of my predecessors, the chaplains at Cuttack.

NUMBER AND NAMES OF SERVANTS.

I do not know the names of all my servants, but I will mention a few. Ibrahim is my sirdar, or valet, and chief man; my bearer is Maqua (which, by the way, is a name in use amongst the Indians in North America); my water-carrier is Rangore; my watchman, or chokedar, Sieboo; my sweeper, Ramoo. These last four are allowed me and paid for by Government: I give them a trifle in addition to their regular pay. The cook, or bowachee, is Callipar; and the table-servant, or khitmutgar, is Pekhoo. We only keep one table-servant; every one else keeps two, and many four or five. My syce, or groom, is Saitor; I do not know the names of the coachman, grass-cutter, tailor, and carpenter, nor of my wife's woman-servant, or ayah, as she is called. I think these are all our domestics, except the dobee, or washerman, but I do not know his name.

I believe every one in Bengal keeps more servants than I do. In the Madras presidency not nearly so many are required, as one there will do the work of three here. I do not know how it is in Bombay. I suppose it is on this account that in the Bengal presidency we receive higher pay than in the other parts of India. I said that I kept fewer than most people, but I certainly think I am better served than those who keep double the number, and I attribute it to this: I never beat my servants; I scold them, but do not strike them: and I believe

that they exert themselves very much in order that they may remain with me on that account, for the cruelty practised by many towards their domestics is most shocking. Yet I firmly believe that I am better served, and, if I may use the expression, really loved, for that very reason.

When a servant is ill it is usual to stop his wages entirely: this I think wrong, and I therefore only stop half, which is another inducement to them to exert themselves in order to remain with me. I will give an instance of the sort of exertion to which I allude. When I packed the last box for England, my carpenter was ill; my cook is a very handy sort of man, so I called him, and desired him to nail up the box; he did it without a moment's hesitation. Almost any other cook would rather have left his situation than have done what he did not consider his work.

Again, I do not know any other person who can get one man to wait on both the sahib and the mem. My khitmutgar not only does this, but also cleans my gun, and sometimes goes out shooting with me; when he is thus engaged the cook supplies his place. These are the advantages of kindness.

It is a common saying that the Hindus have no sense of gratitude, that they have not even a word to express that feeling in their language. I do not believe it, and will give you a case in point. When we are going to travel we pay the money for the bearers into the hands of the postmasters beforehand; he then orders the men to be ready at each stage, and he subsequently sends them their pay. At one stage, as I was going to Midnapore some time ago, the men complained to me that they had not received their money for many months. I questioned them, and, finding their story probable, I promised to speak to the postmaster, and also offered to carry a petition from them to him. This I did; there had been a fault somewhere, but not, I believe, with the postmaster. However, the poor men got their money.

Since that time, whenever I go along the road, as soon as I come to that place a man calls out, "Here is the kind sahib that took our letter for us;" and although the stage is ten miles in length, yet they carry me over it in less time than it takes me to go a six-mile stage elsewhere. My palkee is a heavy one, but they literally run as fast as they can the whole way; and two additional men always go with them without asking for any pay. Is not this something like gratitude?

HONESTY OF NATIVES.

They are said to be extremely dishonest—I mean the natives generally. This also I deny; although their treatment by individuals is enough to make them so; for on the part of Government the error—if any—lies in an excess of mildness and lenity. I would not hesitate, if it were necessary, to intrust a thousand rupees to a servant to take to Calcutta: that is for him a fifteen days' journey. Yet, if he chose, he might easily get beyond my reach; and such a sum would be sufficient to purchase an estate which would render himself and his descendants landed proprietors and gentlemen. I doubt whether you could say more than that for English honesty; although, of course, there may be exceptions here as well as there.

After I left Jelasore the other day, I remembered that I had omitted to lock my patarahs or tin travelling-boxes. There were many valuable things in them, and when I reached the first stage they had not then come up; yet I proceeded day after-day for one hundred and fifty miles without the slightest uneasiness; and these patarahs, which had passed through the hands of sixteen men successively, all of the poorest class and each one alone, arrived at Cuttack in safety one day after myself. I should not have felt so easy had this occurred in England. But enough of this subject for the present.

I was riding out with two friends a few days ago near Balasore, when we saw a cavalcade approaching, consisting of several armed men, some on horseback others on camels. We inquired who they were, and learned that it was the escort of Bheere Singh, who had been on a pilgrimage to Juggernat'h. We joined the Rajah and had a long gossip with him.

The first salutation was a salaam on both sides, that is,—we bowed almost to the necks of our horses, pressing the palms of our right hands against our foreheads. The Rajah, being more polite, or having better command of his horse, salaamed with both hands. I shall describe the man, because, judging from the present state of his country, it is possible that he may hereafter figure in the history of India. He appeared about forty years of age, strongly built, but not very tall; large black whiskers, and the universal moustache, which however was smaller than usual. There was much fire and animation both in his eyes and gestures; I should say also that his look betrayed a cunning and intriguing spirit. He was evidently unwilling to say much concerning the disturbances which have recently taken place in his country, but was most anxious to hear our opinions. He said he had seen the burra lord (great lord), Ellenborough, as he came through Calcutta; and I wondered whether the real object of his journey might not have been to see and speak with the Governor-General rather than to perform his devotions at Pooree.

But one thing struck me especially, and it is a thing highly to the credit of our Indian Government. Pointing to his retinue, he said, "This I very much admire. In my own country and all the native states (that is, states governed by native rajahs), if I were to go to sleep, I must set my guards round me with their arms in their hands, and I dare not ask a stranger to carry a thing for me lest he should run away with it. But directly I come into the Burra Beebee Company's territories" (the East India Company is called the Burra Beebee, or the great lady, by all the natives), "directly I come into their territories, although they are so vast, so immense, from sea to sea" (and he stretched forth his hands in every direction), "directly I come there, if I am weary, I can go to sleep under any tree by the roadside, and I can tell all my guards to go to sleep also. If I want anything carried, I can say to the stranger 'Carry it,' and I know it is safe. Oh! the Burra Beebee Company is a very good great king."

And most assuredly it is so. Wherever we come we give sound laws, and the people find peace and comparative happiness. Under the native rajahs all is anarchy, bloodshed, and oppression. Would that the whole of India were under our sway, and that our Government would seek, by firm and decisive measures, to introduce the blessings of Christianity amongst the thousands and millions of their heathen subjects! I consider these few words of Bheere Singh to confer far more real honour on our Government than all their victories.

A MEETING.

How little one knows in England of the pleasure of meeting with an acquaintance! The other night, as I was travelling and just dozing in my palanquin, I was roused by a loud voice—"Hulloh, Acland! what, is that you?" I was out of my palkee in an instant, and Mr. C., of Talacore, jumped out of his. What a break in the monotony of the road! and yet there was one great unpleasantness about it, and that was, we were obliged, after a few minutes' gossip, each to return to his own solitary palanquin. He produced some oranges; we sucked one or two, and then separated.