with some of them after I leave Calcutta.1 The family has lived together with their property in common and with no division for seven generations, the eldest member guiding the direction of affairs. There are now two hundred of them living together, from white-headed old men down to little children in arms, all happy and contented. Most of them are free from any prejudices of caste, and, scorning the native superstition, they have become deists, which is a result to be explained without difficulty. They still, however, preserve an outside respect for the rules of caste of the prevalent religion. I have already mentioned, in one of my last letters, the nautch which they are about to give at the close of the month. It is to last for three nights, the two first of which are public as it were, and many Americans and English will be present. The last evening is set apart for the receiving of Hindu guests, friends and persons of distinction alone. Rajender, however, has promised to smuggle me in. . .

To Mrs. Andrews Norton

CALCUTTA, Wednesday, October 31, 1849.

MY DEAREST MOTHER,-... And now a little journal. Wednesday and Thursday were Hindu holidays. It was the festival of the goddess Juggud'hatri and was celebrated with some show, though not with so much as the Doorga poojah. Rajender asked me to come to his house on Thursday morning to see the sacrifice to the

1 With Rajender Dutt, in whom Norton became much interested, he carried on a long correspondence. Rajender's letters illustrate strikingly the pains and difficulties for a youth of his race, whose intelligence had led him far from the superstitions he had been bred in.

Goddess. I was very glad to go. It was about ten when I reached the house and I sat for some time in the verandah talking with Rajender, Calidas, and Omeesh, and playing with the little naked black Cupids that were running about, and smoking a hookah, before the ceremonies of the sacrifice commenced. At last three goats were brought into the courtyard, three dishes, one containing a plantain, another some rice, and the third some other fruit were set on the ground. Then the head of the house, old Doorga Charn Dutt, came into the court, and, having bent on his knees with his head touching the ground, he made some silent prayer. Many of the household had gathered about meanwhile in the verandah, and down below, to witness the sacrifice. Doorga Charn having risen, a goat was brought forward, and its head being fastened was struck off at one blow by an attendant. Three or four musicians made a loud din with their tomtoms and cymbals, the blood of the goat was poured over the plates of offerings, and the head was carried into an inner room to be laid before the four-handed, yellow image of the goddess. The same forms were gone through with the other goats, and the sacrifice was ended. The goddess having been propitiated, her image was borne down, attended with music, to the bank of the stream, and cast into the sacred river. Is it not a strange thing that such ceremonies should be continued in a family some of whose members are intelligent men, acquainted with the literature and science, and, more than all, the religion of the West? It is a fact strikingly characteristic of Hindu nature, of

its aversion to change, of its want of spirit to break through the shackles that bind it. Rajender did not even pretend to regard the sacrifice with anything but contempt....

To Mrs. S. P. Cleveland

CALCUTTA, November 4, 1849.

MY DEAREST SARAH,-... This last week there has been one of the finest nautches for a very long time given by my friends the Dutts. It was continued for three nights, and on Thursday, the second night, English and Americans were invited. Ritchie and I had been dining out and did not get there till very late, but quite in time for the show. The house is situated in a narrow lane, about midway between two streets. At each end of the lane arches had been erected and illuminated with myriads of lamps. All along each side of the lane were brilliantly painted clay figures, modelled from pictures, by native artists. Many of them were from Shakespeare and Scott; there were Hamlet and Ophelia, Macbeth, King Lear and Cordelia, Anne of Geierstein, the Lady of the Lake, and very many others. The lane through all its length was brightly lighted and filled with a crowd of dark and variously dressed spectators. The durwans with their silver sticks were trying to keep a clear entrance at the door, but it was with difficulty that we pressed through, though the instant that any one of the natives saw that we were whites, they crowded to make way for us. I have described the house, I think, in one of my former letters which you may perhaps have seen. There had been no ex

pense or labour spared in decorating it. The open square in the centre was covered with a fine carpet and hung with lights which gave it the brilliancy of a ball

room. ...

I have not described half the decorations of the court, but you will easily imagine that the effect was brilliant and striking. And when you add the mingling crowd of showily dressed Hindus, and dark-coated English and Americans, some seated round the court, watching the slow steps of the nautch girls, or listening to their nasal and unmusical songs, others gathered round a table on which were gold and silver vases of flowers, and jars of rose water and attar of roses to bestow upon the guests, others looking over the rail of the verandah upon the scene below, others passing upstairs to a room where a beautiful supper was laid out, you will believe that it was a scene which seemed to separate one very far from those of daily life at home. The next night, Friday, was the chief night of the nautch; the most distinguished singer was reserved for it, and the most distinguished guests were invited. As a particular favour I was invited, and I begged an invitation for Ritchie. Two English friends were also invited. We four were the only foreigners present. ... Rajender had prepared a Hindu dress for me, for he said that the natives would be pleased at the conformity to their customs, and that he was even doubtful about receiving any persons in an English dress, the evening being supposed to be entirely devoted to the reception of their Hindu friends. The dress is a picturesque one and a most comfortable one for the climate. . . .

It was not enough, however, for me to change my costume, but for the evening I must change my name. They sought for one which should bear some resemblance to my own, and so gave me that of Nondolal Shan. Nondolal is the name of one of the gods and its meaning is "joyous," while the meaning of "Shan,” as near as may be, is "disposition." It is considered polite among the Hindus to ask a stranger his name, and so during the evening I was questioned by many guests and inmates of the house, - Tumhara nam hya hai? Your name, what is it? and when I replied it seemed to afford much amusement.

The most distinguished guests of the evening were the grandsons of Tippoo Sahib.1 They receive a very large pension from government, and the farce is still kept up, of treating them in some sort as state prisoners. For instance I heard that they had even to apply for permission on so slight an occasion as attending the nautch, and they were accompanied by a government attendant with a sword by his side and holding a sheathed dagger in his hand, who stood by them throughout the evening. They were received in the large upper room where the supper had been laid the previous night, and only the chief guests were admitted here to meet them. I was introduced to two of them, one quite young but very bright and speaking English well. The head of the family of Tippoo has invited me to come to see them at their house, which is some miles out of town. He has offered to show me the memorials which they have of Tippoo,

1 Sultan of Mysore, killed at the storming of Seringapatam, 1799.