and of course to the native character. The British oppressors never dreamed of a revolt of the native soldiery. Individual cases of vengeance occurred at intervals; but the idea of anything like a great uprising was as absurd as an insurrection among the beasts of burden. And so, perhaps, it might have remained, had the conquerors abstained from touching the one sensitive point of caste. No one but a Hindoo can appreciate what is involved in this word. To him to lose caste is to be outlawed in this life, and to be cursed in all life to come throughout the endless ages of eternity. In Lower India the recruits generally belonged to the inferior castes. In Bengal they belonged mainly to the higher castes, among whom the usages of the Hindoo religion were faithfully guarded. More than once the English government had touched this one sensitive point, but had taken timely warning and refrained. Later, the time came when, grown bold by success, they thought they might ignore this last concession to Hindoo feeling. It had been resolved to introduce the Enfield rifle into the native service. The change involved the use of greased cartridges, the ends of which must be bitten off by the soldier. Now, among the means by which caste is forfeited in India, one of the most notable is the tasting of animal fat. The greased cartridges were furnished by contractors and the sepoys believed, not unreasonably, that the fat of cows and swine were employed in their manufacture. Every sepoy who used one of these was thus liable to all the horrors implied in the loss of caste. The whole difficulty might have been avoided by allowing them to prepare their own cartridges with vegetable oils or butter. But the British commander-in-chief declared that no concession should be made to the beastly prejudices of the natives." He afterwards rescinded his decision; but it was too late; the great Indian mutiny had broken out,

and the whole Bengal army had disbanded or was in open revolt.

When the troops at Cawnpore mutinied, Nana Sahib the Maharajah of Bithoor was placed at their head. Nine hundred persons of whom seven hundred and fifty were Europeans, more than two hundred being women and children, were besieged in an intrenched camp near the city. After a bitter struggle in which the besieged suffered the extremes of hunger and thirst they capitulated under promise of being safely conducted to Allahabad. The men were placed in boats, where they were shot down almost to a man, only four escaping. The women were taken into Cawnpore where the Nana had them cut down in cold blood. The floor of the room in which they were slaughtered was found next day by English troops who had come up, ankle-deep in blood.

Today the city has a memorial garden in an enclosure beautifully laid out and tastefully kept in order; within its bounds are the sites where some of the most frightful scenes were enacted. A monument built over the fatal "well," is on an octagonal space of ground, enclosed by a stone wall with richly carved panels, in the center of which stands the marble figure of a sorrowing angel; an inscription informs the visitor that it was raised to the perpetual memory of two hundred or more men, women and children who were slain by order of the Nana Sahib, and their bodies, the dying with the dead, thrown into the well beneath. At the subsequent defeat of the rebels the Nana escaped and strange to relate it is not known to this day in India whether the monster is alive or not, so well has the secret been kept.

An admirable trait in the character of Hindoo princes, maharajahs, rajahs, baboos and other wealthy East Indians, is that of hospitality, and the writer was fortunate enough to experience an instance of it on the evening of the day he left Cawnpore. The sole

as peculiar as the music and the deportment of the dancers; first cardamon seeds were brought in on small silver trays, then came hydromel, a mixture of honey and water in gold lined goblets; this was followed by small salvers of sweetmeats, laid on fresh lotos leaves, and finally three cut glass phials of peculiar shape containing heavy essential oils of rare and unusual scent, which can be likened only to a mingled odor of musk and camphor, not the musk of commerce, but that which makes the air heavy around large serpents in confinement. The perfumes were poured together, drop by drop, on a small ivory disc, mixed and with the tips of the fingers each guest was lightly touched on the arms, breast and shoulders; the redolence clung to the attire for days afterwards and would come and go, sometimes strong and clear, at others faint and far.

occupant of a carriage with nothing to do and four hours in which to do it, while waiting for a belated train I was driving listlessly about the streets and finally came to a small open square, facing a large, handsome bungalow surrounded by a low stone wall with gilded iron gates. In an open space on the lawn sat the lord of the manor and a group of friends with the usual retinue of servants filling in the background; the party was being entertained by native musicians keeping time to the lithe, graceful swaying movements of a group of Nautch girls; the carriage was stopped at a retired spot in the little square under some pomegranate trees, and its occupant settled back among the cushions, prepared to enjoy a performance he had frequently heard about but never witnessed; a few moments later a swarthy attendant in livery crossed the square, came to the carriage door and enquired "if the gentleman would honor his master by joining the group on the lawn?" The gentleman would and did, the invitation was accepted as promptly and courteously as given; the company were all natives except the writer, and, after introductions had followed, a seat was arranged for him beside the host; the dancing of the Nautch girls continued almost without interruption during the three hours that he remained, one girl succeeding another and never more than dancing at a time. The movelanguid but always graceful, and sometimes accompanied by a low voiced singing, a species of chant that at times was indescribably sad; during lulls in the undulating dances and half-weird vibrating music, refreshments were served to the belated guest, and he was introduced to three bright little boys, children of the host, but not to the zernani, nor did he see any member of the harem, although their presence was more than suspected behind a perforated marble screen facing a summer house. The refreshments were

one

ments were

From Cawnpore, on on a road through the jungle, I traveled by many a pleasant league towards Delhi, a beautiful city which the Hindoo chroniclers place the founding of as far back as B. C. 1400. It has been possessed and governed often by the Hindoos, Mohammedans. Tartars, Afghans and Moguls. Thirty-five years ago the British wrested it from the rebel troops, and since then, under the English rule, it has advanced in prosperity. The thrilling scenes at its capture, when some of their most valiant men fought and fell, are matters of history; and their deeds of daring and endurance, both at Delhi and Lucknow, will never be forgotten, at least among English speaking races. The fort and palace of the Moguls are very interesting ; in the latter's hall of audience once stood that celebrated "peacock throne," composed of jasper, malachite, gold and precious stones, and said to have cost three million dollars. It was finally demolished and the material taken away as plunder by Nadir Shah of Persia.