hours were pleasantly spent in exploring the home of his highness'

ancestors.

Lucknow, Delhi and Cawnpore being the three great points around which the Indian meeting centered during the early period of the revolt, and the former city coming next on my itinerary, I found it the principal one in the province of Oudh and possessing a melancholy interest as connected with the frightful scenes which occurred at the time. The privations endured and the indomitable courage shown by the beleagured English within the walls have caused many a heartache for their sufferings, though not unmixed with a glow of pride that the whites, so few in number, held out successfully against the hordes of rebels, who tried every known means of dislodging them, until eventually they were relieved under Sir Colin Campbell. Here General Havelock died and here is the Secunder Bagh, formerly a garden, in a large walled inclosure, which during the mutiny formed a stronghold for the rebels, who loop-holed the walls for musketry. It was also here that two thousand Sepoys, all trained in the Bengal army, had established themselves, but were killed within two hours by the Highlanders under Campbell. The buildings are in ruins, and as much as possible they are kept in the same state as when evacuated during the siege of Lucknow, that the walls may bear witness. The cemetery is still kept in order, and tablets and monuments indicate where lie many of the gallant and brave men who fell during the attack. What changes have come over India since the siege of that fair city of Lucknow! Jesse Brown, dinna ye hear the slogan of modern life? Bravehearted little Scotch lassie whose tireless hope, greater endurance, cheery encouragement and patient, uncomplaining eyes put to shame and upheld the courage of strong

men.

Strange how travelers pass and repass each other in rounding the earth; here at Lucknow I meet again with Mr. C, a retired New York banker and one of the "Belgic" party who crossed the Pacific last fall. The last time we met we were horse-backing it together in the Nizam's possessions and traveling toward his capital of Hyderabad. Near the close of one sultry evening we were joined by a Parsee merchant from the Chowringhee road in Calcutta who purposed stopping at the same Dak (bungalow) as ourselves that night. Hyderabad was once a favorite rendezvous of the Thugs of India, and the subject coming up during the ride, the Parsee proved to be well informed regarding the rise and fall of those stranglers. It appears that the system of Thuggee was unknown to and unsuspected by the people of India themselves for many years. The continent is so vast, and the principalities at that time were so numerous, each petty prince being an independent despot with a country of his own, that no general league was ever entered into for the protection of travelers; the roads were mere bridle paths, or fit only for the primitive bullock carts, and people traveling alone were constantly in peril from the Thugs, who were robbers, of course, as well as stranglers. Finally when the British government in India took up the matter in earnest, one or more informers were admitted from nearly every band that had been seized and these were allowed life on condition of denouncing their associates. Among others betrayed was a leader of notoriety. In this manner Thuggee was found to be practiced all over India, and the statements of the informers were frequently verified by the disinterment of the dead. It was also extensively practiced on the Ganges by many of the boating population, who frequently strangled such passengers as they could entice into their boats on trips up and down

the river. The origin of the sect is supposed to be lost in the mist of ages, but here is one tradition: In the beginning of the world according to the Hindoos, there existed a creative and a destroying power, both emanating from the Supreme Being. These were at constant enmity with each other; the creative power, however, peopled the earth so fast, that the destroyer could not keep pace with him, nor was he allowed to do so; but was permitted to use every means he thought might avail. Among others, his consort Bowhanee, constructed an image, into which, on this occasion, she was empowered to infuse the breath of life. No sooner was this effected than she assembled a number of her votaries, whom she named Thugs (destroyers) and instructed them in the art of Thuggee, and to prove its efficacy, with her own hands, destroyed before them the image she had made, by strangulation. She endowed the Thugs with superior intelligence and cunning, in order that they might decoy human beings to destruction, and sent them abroad into the world, giving them, as a reward of their exertions, the plunder they might obtain from those put to death.

On the initiation of a new member solemnities were gone through, fearful oaths administered and a silk cord or strip of silk cloth given to him, and he was instructed in their use. The best of these red-handed appliances were made at Madras, and called a Madras cloth or a Madras cord. When a cloth was used it was much the shape and size of an ordinary handkerchief. A large knot was tied at one end with a silver coin inserted; this was held in the left hand, the plain end being in the right, and about as much space left between the two ends as would nearly encompass a man's neck; the closed hands had the palms uppermost. The cloth or cord was thrown from behind, and when they got it tight, the knuckles

were suddenly turned into the neck, giving a sharp wrench to either side. that was most convenient. If well done silent and instant death followed. In fact, the man was dead before falling to the ground. The bodies were robbed and buried, all traces of the graves being carefully obliterated. Their goddess Bowhanee, being a woman, it was thought distasteful to her to slay that sex, and they were generally spared unless the Thug's safety seemed to require the death blow. Some others were exempt-dancing men, musicians and maimed or leprous persons. The Parsee appeared to think the murderous sect extinct in India, but a Benares Hindoo told the writer positively and with much earnestness that its devotees still practiced their horrid rites in places. remote from railway or diligence routes and other traveled centers. Certain it is that offerings to the goddess Bowhanee are still made. The ex-banker and the writer were much interested, and the conversation was kept up during the evening repast and well into the night. Finally, tired with the day's long ride or made drowsy by the heavy fumes of the Persian tobacco the parsee was smoking, I threw myself down for the night on some rice mats in a corner of the bungalow, fell into a troubled sleep and dreamed of Indian stranglers and a Madras cord until I woke struggling.

In glancing over his journal the writer finds little of interest on the journey between Lucknow and Bombay, but in Bombay itself there are many things well worth seeing. A ramble through native bazaars in India is also in evidence, and when nothing else offers they are returned to again and again. An institution in Bombay is the Pinjrapool, an asylum for aged, decrepit, lame or abandoned animals of all kinds. These, otherwise homeless and without food, here find shelter and are well fed. The Jains, who were seceders from Buddhism, profess for

or deformed animals of whatever kind are received, taken care of till they are cured, or kept during life in case of permanent injuries. One hundred thousand rupees are expended annually in the maintenance of the one at Bombay. Brokenlegged cattle and horses, worthless dogs, diseased or otherwise, homeless cats, pigeons, monkeys, etc., may there live out their natural lives, and the number received is only limited by the means available.

It is impossible to describe the richness and variety of outlines of the streets in the native town of Bombay. The ground floors of the houses are supported by colonnades of wood, while rich carvings are lavished on the pillars, the balconies, the rosettes of the windows and the architraves and corners of the roof. The narrow, irregular streets are blocked up by the most cosmopolitan, living mass that can be conceived-women in robes of scarlet, blue and gold, Persians in high, shaggy hats, Parsees in cherry-colored silk trousers, tall soldiers, Rajputs, Chinamen, swaggering Mussulmen in turbans of green, sleek Marwarees with tight-fitting, parti-colored turbans of red and yellow. This tide of human life rolls down the center of the street unmindful of the conveyances which are ploughing their way through it. There are draft horses with cork-lined hoods to shelter them from the fierce rays of the sun, and high-stepping Arabian steeds worth their weight in-well, in silver. With much ado the traveler threads his way past small, quaint shops wherein are displayed all the dazzling wares of the East. Behind immense trays of sweetmeats sits a fat, greasy, half-nude confectioner; and as the Hindoos will only eat and drink from vessels of brass, the brazen art is

represented on all sides. There are small hovels in a squalor-haunted region, where lean old men, acid-eaten and ghostly, are manufacturing the most delicate traceries in silver-work,

and their only implements consist of a blow-pipe, an anvil, a hammer and a pair of pinchers. The sidewalks have a sanguinary look here and there where great splashes of bloodred saliva are seen, the result of chewing the betel nut and leaves, a practice that is followed everywhere and persistently in India by both sexes, but stories about the extraordinary powers of endurance it imparts to its devotees are travelers' tales; it is a strong excitant of the salivary glands, and colors the lips a bright vermilion.

Strolling along a suburban road one morning I reached a blank wall from above which floated long volumes of noisome smoke, drifting across the country, and myriads of bright sparks rising in the air. It was the Hindoo cremating grounds, and the smoke and sparks were thrown off from the burning corpses. Beyond the crematory a long twostoried building has been erected by a charitable Mohammedan gentleman to accommodate pilgrims to Mecca; beyond this is reached the rise to Malabar Hill. Passing through narrow streets lined with stately residences, the traveler comes to a sacred pool situated in the center of a great square entirely surrounded by temples; large flights of stone steps lead down to the water's edge where an immense throng of Hindoos, male and female, in brightcolored attire, press round the brink of the silent pool. Some disrobe and plunge in, others sprinkle themselves with the sacred water, others kneel on the steps, while all pray with the utmost fervor. Passing along the crest of Malabar Hill, there breaks upon the view one of the loveliest scenes in the wide world. In the far distance are the picturesque hills of Mahratta land, bathed in a blue and purple haze from the mountains to the distant horizon of the sea; the islands nearest in are covered with a luxuriant, tropical vegetation, and between those and the Malabar coast

lies the great inlet known as Bombay harbor. A mile or more farther on stand the celebrated towers of silence, where the Parsees, the fire-worshipers, deposit their dead to be devoured by vultures. On the neighboring trees and on the white walls which enclose the towers, these monstrous birds are seen in flocks. Suddenly they rise in the air-a corpse is being brought up the steps. The sorrowing relatives leave the body of the young girl at the door of the tower, from whence it is taken within by attendant priests and placed on an iron grating. Meanwhile some cormorants have left their prey on the reef to join the vultures in their feast on the shore; the moment the

priests retire the loathsome fowls, chattering with hunger and fury, swoop down to strip the body of every particle of flesh; another cloud of the winged body-snatchers fly up into view, screaming and fighting among themselves over some long fragment of the vitals, till somehow the jarring discord is ended and they settle down once more behind the white-walled sepulchre, while the horrified spectator turns away trembling at the thought of what is going on. In an hour or two nothing remains but a gleaming white skeleton with the long, bony hands pointing north and south. In a day or two the bearers return and place the bones in a central well. G. H. Snell.

II.

WHAT THE SCRIPTURES SAY.

THE Elders that preach before the Latter-day Saints may be divided into four classes: (1) those that read much and think much; (2) those that read little yet think much; (3) those that read much, yet think little; (4) those that read little and think less. The last class, in this year of grace, is a big one.

I should be tempted here to devote a paragraph of kindly advice to this class, were I not hopeless of its ever reaching them. Solomon wrote many striking proverbs about knowledge and wisdom, and them that refuse to seek it. But it is very unlikely that they were ever read by the people whose attention he tried to catch. At any rate the wise man felt like "braying them in a mortar,' but confessed it very doubtful whether even this would improve them. Let me not seem satirical. These are generally good men-goody-good. The only mistake they make in preaching is in setting their tongues wagging and then going off and leaving them.

Seriously, I profess no charity for the fossilized Latter-day Saint, especially the fossilized Elder. Progressiveness-this grand device is not alone emblazoned on our banner: it is the very genius that carries the banner. It is not a time to bury our talents. Thought today must breed fast, talents duplicate themselves daily, hourly. For us that have the whole world to move, it is a crime to stand still, or merely beat time.

Mormon theology embraces such a variety of truths that nothing which affects the temporal, the social, or the spiritual welfare of man, can come amiss on Sundays if selected by the spirit of inspiration. Indeed, anything that arouses attention and stimulates thought-be it gospel principle or advice about husbanding crops-will be not only listened to but relished by Latter-day Saints, such is our boundless respect for all God's truths.

But it requires thought to arouse thought. Then what can be expected from men that never think, themselves? What can the Spirit