Juggernat'h, May, 1843.

The first account I received of the Chena Poojah was correct. The hooks are passed through the muscles on each side the spine: for several days previously the muscles are rubbed and beaten in order to harden them. At the festival they frequently run pieces of iron through the tongue. The victims belong to the lowest castes, and generally swing and torture themselves as proxies for the Brahmins who have made a vow.

This place is marked Juggernat'h on the maps, although properly that is only the name of the idol in the temple. The town itself is called Pooree, or the City of Cities.

POOREE.

I left Cuttack on Thursday, April 20, and after one night's dâk arrived here, the distance being about forty-eight miles. I went to the Circuit-house, a large unfurnished residence, appropriated by Government to the use of those officers who go on circuit through the district. However, Mr. B., the magistrate and principal person here, would not allow me to remain there, but insisted upon my coming and living at his house, and sending at once for my wife to come and join me. This I gladly did. Mrs. Acland discharged most of our servants, and came down here; so she has the benefit of living at Pooree, and at the same time of saving money, for the month's wages of the servants discharged will more than pay for her journey. We have a bed-room, sitting and dressing apartments, and two bath-rooms to ourselves; and we breakfast, dine, &c., with Mr. and Mrs. B.

It is difficult to imagine the delight of coming to such a place as Pooree. At Cuttack we are obliged to keep every door and window shut, in order to exclude the hot air. We close them at six in the morning and open them at seven in the evening. One doorway is fitted with a framework, covered with matting made of scented grass. This is called a tatty, and is kept all day thoroughly wet, in order to cool the room by evaporation, the punkah continually fanning over head; but in spite of all this the heat is fearful, and still increasing; the thermometer stood in-doors at 103°.

At Pooree, forty-eight miles from Cuttack, we have no punkahs, no tatties; all the windows wide open, the waves rolling up close to the houses, a delicious sea-breeze all day, the thermometer never yet above 85°; not a mosquito to be seen, and no insects but a few English flies. Excepting among the mountains, Pooree is perhaps the coolest place in India, and I am considered most fortunate in having it in my district.

The coming here is a renewal of life and strength. When we are down on the sands in the evening, we might quite fancy ourselves in England again; and I assure you that at five o'clock in the afternoon, by the sea-side, we are glad to walk fast in order to keep ourselves warm. This is the state of Pooree at present. After the rains, that is, in October and November, it becomes extremely hot and very unhealthy; for then the sea-breeze ceases and the land-wind sets in, passing in its course over the dead bodies of hundreds of pilgrims.

The most conspicuous object here is the temple of Juggernat'h, to which devotees come from every part of India. It is an immense pile of massive buildings. There are at times as many as one hundred thousand pilgrims here at once. No European is allowed to enter even the court.

DANGER OF BATHING.

The sea is most magnificent. The beach is composed entirely of sand, something like that at Weston-super-Mare; but there is only a few yards' difference between high and low water. There is an incessant surf extending almost to the horizon—one line behind another of enormous breakers. Some people used occasionally to bathe, but the surf rendered it very dangerous, and at last one of them had a leg carried away by a shark, since which every one is afraid; we therefore have salt water brought up to the house.[3]