expense are objects of importance. Though, to a certain extent, the term clumsy may fairly be applied to a budgerow, its construction and appearance are far from inelegant; with a little more painting and gilding, a few silken sails and streamers, and divested of the four-footed outside passengers and other incumbrances on the roof, it would make a very beautiful object in a picture, and in its present state it has the advantage of being exceedingly picturesque. The greater part of the lower deck is occupied by a range of apartments fitted up for the accommodation of the party engaging the boat; these are generally divided into a sleeping and a sitting room, with an enclosed verandah in front, which serves to keep off the sun, and to stow away various articles of domestic furniture. The apartments are surrounded on all sides with venetians, which exclude the sun in the day time, and let in the air at night; and by those who are aware of the different kinds of annoyances to be guarded against in rivertravelling, they may be rendered extremely comfortable. The addition of chicks, blinds made of bamboo split very fine, to be unrolled when the ghil mills, as the venetians are called, are opened, would prevent the invasions of those numerous armies of insects which, after sunset, infest the cabins; and those who do not consider rats desirable guests, will do well to provide themselves with a staunch terrier dog, or a couple of good cats, otherwise they may expect to be overrun with vermin, to the great increase of dirt and bad smells, and to the destruction of clothes and the supplies for the table. In front of the cabins, the deck is of circumscribed dimensions, affording only space for the boatmen, who, on descending the river, facilitate the progress of the vessel by means of long sweeps; the upper deck, therefore, or roof, is the chief resort of the crew and the servants. At the stern the helmsman stands, perched aloft, guiding a huge rudder; the goleer, stationed at the prow, ascertains the depth of the water by means of a long oar; and, when the wind will permit, two large square sails are hoisted, with the assistance of which the lumbering vessel goes rapidly through the water. In addition to the furniture for the cabins, sea (or rather river) stock must be procured, consisting of groceries of all kinds, wine, beer, and brandy, salt provisions, tongues, hams, tamarind-fish,* flour, biscuits, and charcoal; a dozen or two of live fowls and ducks, and a couple of milch goats. As the budgerow is not calculated for a heavy or cumbrous freight, a baggage-boat is necessary for the conveyance of the goods and chattels of the party, and for the accommodation of those servants who cannot be conveniently retained on board the superior vessel. These boats are usually of the most dangerous description, and the number of accidents continually occurring to them, the destruction of property which, even if fished up from the depths of the Ganges, is totally spoiled, and the constant anxiety and alarm they occasion, would in almost any other country deter persons from hiring such ricketty conveyances; but it is the custom to imperil the most valuable effects in this manner, and they are abandoned to the tender mercies of the winds and waves. A dinghee, or wherry, is a very essential adjunct to river-navigation, but Fish cured with the acid juice of the tamarind. it is not always to be procured, and when one of these light skiffs cannot be attached to the larger craft, the communication between the cook boat and the budgerow is frequently cut off. The former vessels are usually very heavy sailers (how they manage to get on at all, with their canvass in as ragged a condition as the pocket-handkerchief of Sylvester Daggerwood, is the wonder), and they are consequently often left at a long distance behind at the arrival of the hour of dinner. The unhappy passengers in the budgerow, after waiting in vain for the smoking supplies they had anxiously expected, are compelled to be satisfied with a less substantial meal of coffee, eggs, dried fish, or any thing else that their lockers may afford. Few persons venture to move after sunset, both on account of the dangers of the navigation from the numerous shoals and other obstructions, and the increased expense, as it would be necessary to engage a double set of boatmen, the ordinary number being insufficient for the performance of extra duties. At daybreak in the morning, the vessel is usually pushed out into the stream, spreading her sails like those of "a wild swan in its flight," or proceeding more leisurely by the united exertions of sixteen men dragging at a rope fastened at the mast-head; breakfast is laid in the outer room, and is well supplied with luxurious fare. The bread may be a little stale or a little mouldy, for the damp atmosphere of the rains is not very favourable to the staff of life, which can only be procured, in the European form, at European stations. A very good substitute, however, is offered by freshlybaked chupatties, of which the native servants fabricate several kinds, some resembling crumpets, others the thick griddle cakes of Ireland, while a third are counterparts of the Scottish scones. Milk purchased at the neighbouring villages is churned into butter; the tea-kettle sings merrily on a tripod fed with charcoal placed upon the deck, and there is no want of fresh and dried fish, omelettes, and kedgeree; whether the usual fricassees and grills can be added must depend upon the state of the live stock, and the chances of procuring fresh supplies before the vessel can reach a wellfurnished bazaar. At the Hindoo villages, there is nothing to be had except milk, pulse, fruit, and vegetables, and sometimes a few eggs. From the Moosulman inhabitants, a more generous and substantial kind of provant can be obtained, chiefly consisting of poultry, it being seldom worth their while to fatten sheep for chance passengers, especially at a season in which it is impossible to keep fresh provisions for more than a day: whatever is killed in the morning must be eaten before night, and the method usually employed by the khidmutghars, in clearing the dinner-table, is to empty the contents of the dishes into the river. The dandies, or boatmen, though frequently belonging to the lowest castes of Hindoos, will not touch a morsel of the food which comes from a Christian board. Some of the sweepers, a set of persons who enjoy perfect liberty of conscience in all matters in which dirt and filth are concerned, will not contaminate themselves with the joint, though untouched, which has been served up to their European masters; others less scrupulous will eat any thing; but the degree of horror entertained by the mere refuse of the people of the pollution contracted by swallowing the remnants of a Christian feast, could scarcely be credited by those who have not witnessed the strange effects of religious prejudices in India. The writer has seen the veriest outcasts, men who would steal, kill, and eat those unclean animals, the domestic pigs of a native village,—which the devourers of more orthodox pork hold in abomination, refuse the finest meat which had figured at the budgerow-table, preferring the impure repast dishonestly obtained, to the defilement of roasts and boils from Christian cooking-pots. After the breakfast has been cleared away, those persons who entertain any regard for their eyes or their complexions, will fasten the venetians, and darkening the boat as much as possible, employing themselves in reading, writing, or working. But strangers find it difficult to abstain from the contemplation of the novel and wondrous scenes around them. The broad and sparkling river is covered with objects of interest and attraction. In some parts of the Ganges, every wave appears to bring with it clusters and coronets of the largest and most beautiful flowers: so numerous are the garlands which the worshippers of the deity of the stream throw into its glittering waters. The rich and luxuriant clusters of the lotus float down in quick succession upon the silvery current; and a vivid imagination may fancy the young god Camdeo nestling amid the silken leaves of his roseate couch.* Nor is it the sacred lotus alone which embellishes the wavelets of the Ganges; large white, yellow, and scarlet flowers pay an equal tribute; and the prows of the numerous native vessels navigating the stream are garlanded by long wreaths of the most brilliant daughters of the parterre. India may be called a paradise of flowers; the most beautiful lilies grow spontaneously on the sandy shores of the rivers, and from every projecting cliff some blossoming shrub dips its flowrets in the wave below. In tracking, the budgerow is frequently not more than a yard or two from the water's edge, and nothing can be more gratifying to the eye than the moving panorama, which the scenery of the Ganges exhibits. One of the most striking and magnificent features of an Indian river is the ghaut. The smallest villages on the banks of the Ganges possess landing-places, which we vainly seek in the richest and most populous parts of Europe. The Anglo-Indian, landing upon the English coast, is struck with the meanness of the dirty wooden staircases which meet his eye at Falmouth, Plymouth, and other places of equal note and importance. In India, wherever a town occurs in the vicinity of a river, a superb and spacious ghaut is constructed for the accommodation of the inhabitants: the material is sometimes granite, but more frequently well-tempered and highly polished chunams. From an ample terrace, at the summit of the bank, broad steps descend into the river, inclosed on either side with handsome balustrades. These are not unfrequently flanked with beautiful temples, mosques, or pagodas, according to the creed of the founders; or the ghaut is approached through a cloistered quadrangle, having the religious edifice in the centre. The banian and the peepul fling their sacred branches over the richly-carved minarets and pointed domes, and those in the brahminee villages are • The writer was constantly reminded of Pickersgill's beautiful picture of Camdeo floating down the Ganges on a lotus. crowded with troops of monkies, whose grotesque and diverting antics. contrast strangely with the devotional attitudes of the holy multitude performing their orisons in the stream. Nothing can be more animated than an Indian ghaut; at scarcely any period of the day is it destitute of groupes of bathers, while graceful female forms are continually passing and repassing, loaded with water-pots, which are balanced with the nicest precision on their heads. The ghaut, with its cheerful assemblage, disappears, and is succeeded by some lofty overhanging cliff wooded to the top, and crowned with one of those beautiful specimens of oriental architecture scattered with rich profusion over the whole country. Green vistas next are seen, giving glimpses of rustic villages in the distance, and winding alleys of so quiet a character, that the passer-by may fancy that these sequestered lanes lead to the cottage-homes of England,-a brief illusion speedily dissipated by the appearance of some immense herd of buffaloes, either wallowing in the mud, with their horns and the tips of their noses alone out of the water, or proceeding leisurely to the river's edge, which, when gained, is quitted for the stream. A mighty plunge ensues, as the whole troop betake themselves to the water, stemming its rapid current with stout shoulders. One or two of the leaders bear the herdsmen on their necks; very little of the forms of these men are visible, and their temerity in entrusting themselves to so wild a looking animal, and to so wide a waste of waters, excites surprise to unaccustomed eyes. The snorting multitude are left behind, and the scene changes again; deep forests are passed, whose unfathomable recesses lie concealed in eternal shade; savage jungles and marshy wastes; then cultivation returns; wide pastures are spread along the shore covered with innumerable herds; the gigantic elephant is seen under a tree, fanning off the flies with a branch of palm, or pacing along, bearing his master in a howdah through the indigo plantations. European dwellings arise in the midst of park-like scenery, and presently the wild barbaric pomp of a native city bursts upon the astonished eye. Though the general character of the country is flat, the undulations occurring on the banks of the Ganges are quite sufficient to redeem the scenery from the charge of sameness or monotony. High and abrupt promontories diversify the plain; when the river is full, the boat frequently glides beneath beetling cliffs, crowned with the crumbling remnants of some half-ruined village, whose toppling houses are momentarily threatened with destruction or covered with the eyries of innumerable birds, and tapestried with wild creepers, which fling their magnificent garlands down to the sands below. Other steeps are clothed with umbrageous foliage, and between the trees glimpses are caught of superb flights of stairs, the approach from the water of some beautiful pagoda peeping out upon the summit, the habitation and the temple of a brahmin, who occupies himself solely in prayer, and in weaving garlands, part of which he devotes to the altars which he serves, and part to the bright and flowing river. These exquisite buildings occur in the most lonely situations, apparently far from the dwellings of man, and the innumerable varieties of birds, some flying in large flocks, and others stalking solitarily along the reedy shore, Asiat.Journ.N.S.VOL.12.No.45. Ꭰ will at all times compensate for the absence of objects of greater impor tance. The reputation for splendour of the Anglo-Indian style of living appears to be fully borne out by the grandeur of the display made upon the banks of the Hooghly. The European towns which grace the shore are superb; palace succeeds to palace as the boat passes Ishara, Barrackpore, and its opposite neighbour Serampore, whose broad and beautiful esplanade presents one of the finest architectural landscapes imaginable; luxuriant gardens intervene between magnificent houses; some shaded with forest trees, others spreading their terraced fronts and pillared verandahs in the full glow of an eastern sun. The French settlement of Chandernagore, a little higher up, only inferior to its Danish neighbour, offers a less striking and imposing front, and though boasting houses of equal splendour, does not appear to so much advantage from the river, while Chinsurah, at a short distance, is infinitely more picturesque. Smaller habitations attract the eye, perched upon the summits of crags richly wreathed with multitudes of creeping plants, and through numerous openings between these lovely cliffs, blooming labyrinths appear, which have all the charms the imagination imparts to beauties only half-revealed. The character given to the scenery by the continued recurrence of those stately mansions, which seem more fitted for the residences of princes than for the dwellings of the civil and military servants of a company of merchants, is not entirely lost until after the budgerow has passed Moorshedabad, the residence of the Nizam of Bengal, a distance of 120 miles from Calcutta. From this point the landscape assumes a wilder and more decidedly foreign aspect. Bungalows usurp the places of palaces; fortresses, half Asiatic, half European in their construction, project their battlemented walls into the stream; and when the ranges of the Rajmhal hills are left behind, every place and building of importance is of native origin. However cheering the sight of a European cantonment may be in its promise of replenishing the larder, and the prospect it holds out of social, pleasures, the hideous shapes of those gigantie mounds, which look like over-grown haystacks covered with thatch, is quite sufficient to destroy the effect of the surrounding objects. Out of the numberless bungalows which disfigure the face of British India, very few, and those only which are partly built of stone, and nearly hidden in embowering groves, are in the slightest degree picturesque; and scarcely one can, under any circumstances, be introduced into a drawing. Towards the middle of the day, the boat becomes insufferably hot; both sides have received the fierce glare of a burning sun; the heat is reflected from the water, which is now too dazzling for the eye to endure without pain; the morning breeze dies away, and it requires all the patience of a martyr to sustain the torments inflicted by the scorching atmosphere, especially as the roofs of the cabins are usually too low to allow a punkah to be hung. As the sun declines, the boat gradually cools down to a more agreeable temperature; and when the welcome shadows of the woods descend upon the deck, it is delightful to sit in the open air and watch the progress of the vessel, as it nears the shore, to the spot appointed as its station |