which had attended the performance of rites | shaking of the pretty head of the bride, as if mystical to the stranger. In the centre of the hall was spread a large square carpet, the edge of which I was particularly requested not to touch, even with the hem of my garment, it being for the time sacred. On one side of this were the bride and bridegroom, seated on richly gilt chairs; the young husband in the usual dress of the Parsees, and the bride enveloped in a veil, or saree, of gold gauze, edged with pearls. They were a handsome couple, and with little disparity of age, the bridegroom being perhaps eighteen, and pretty Ferozebhai some four years younger. Facing the bride stood the Dastur, or Chief Priest, with flowing garments and white turban, peculiar to the order, and on either side mobeds, (priests of the second class), holding a dish with cocoa-nuts and rice, and a small fan. Between the priests and bride, were two small tables, teapoys, as they are called in India, (a perversion of teen-pong, or tripod,) each supporting a lighted candle and a green cocoa-nut, on a silver salver.' As the Dastur thus stood, with hand upraised, he scattered rice and dried fruits towards the bride, repeating the nuptial benediction. This ended, the bride's feet were bathed with milk, the kusti, or cincture of seventy-two threads, blessed and adjusted, with some frivolous customs on which it is unnecessary here to remark, inasmuch as I was assured both by Manockjee Cursetjee, and my obliging friend Nourojee Dorabjee, the radical editor of the Chabook newspaper, that they were mere grafts of Hindooism, and "contemptible to speak of." The concluding ceremony, however, had too much absurdity in it to pass unnoticed, and the reader will, if a bachelor, perhaps thank Heaven that he, at least, was not born a worshipper of A'tish (fire), to be liable to the suffering I am about to describe, in addition to that of a "wedding breakfast." In the marriage chamber were some hundreds of Parsee women, of all ages and various ranks, splendidly attired, for even those less wealthy than their neighbours were radiant in gold and satin; yet the elder ladies, and some even more than passée, had reason to rejoice that the saree, when required, levelled distinctions by concealment. Every individual of this crowd, from the moment, however, the nuptial ceremony was concluded, stepped upon the carpet and commenced a little benedictory appendix, performed by extending the hands, and passing them over the faces and garments of the bride and bridegroom, from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot, repassing them from the sole of the foot to the crown of the head, and retiring after a low salaam. I fancied I could perceive a pitiable shrinking of the suffering bridegroom from the bony hands of some of the elder ladies, and a gentle 1 Gen. i. 28. these harsh touches on her smooth face were absolutely painful. No doubt they were, but this is a "custom" in the East-a word of most extended meaning, powerful enough at all times to set aside any supposed necessity for reason, and affording an excuse for anything, however monstrous, absurd, or irrational. On entering the saloon, Cursetjee had introduced me to his mother, Lady Jemsetjee, a remarkably fine-looking person; her dress was a rich crimson satin saree, with a deep gold border, slippers worked in diamonds, and a nose jewel, composed of three large pearls, with an emerald pendant, an ornament which the Parsees, as well as the Mohammedans, very generally use. After the marriage I was presented to the bride, and had the pleasure of seeing her sweet face unveiled by gorgeous drapery. She wore trowsers of white satin embroidered in gold, a flowered lace under-dress, with a pale pink satin boddice, worked with an elaborate design in pearls of various sizes, her slippers and nose ring being similar to those of Lady Jemsetjee. Numerous strings of large pearls depended from her fair neck, and her arms were half hidden by rich ornaments. Her manner was graceful and quiet, and I am told she is accomplished and very amiable; speaking English, and having been educated by an Englishwoman, who was accustomed to tuition in England, and is herself well informed. And here I cannot avoid remarking with commiseration on the condition of many of my poor countrywomen in India, whose position appears to be, if not quite destitute, helpless and wretched in the extreme; one sketch of which will serve as the portrait of many. A young woman, for instance, of a large and impoverished family, the members of whom, perhaps, all occupy the most dependent, and generally degraded position of governesses in secondrate families, is induced, with the hope of assisting in missionary labours, to come to India. She marries, perhaps, a clerk in an office, or some man whose family have been unable to provide him with a profession. He gains chance employment, probably in an office, or as English writer to some native gentleman, where he gains lodging and some three pounds (thirty rupees) a month. Disappointment now brutalizes him, he strives to deaden its sense by stimulants; a young family increases care; the wife struggles to improve things by teaching among half-castes and Parsees, for a stipend less than her husband's; mutual recrimination too often follows; the unhappy woman, unable to return to her country, fails in health; and the scene is one over which we would willingly draw a curtain, wishing that society had no such scenes which have for its actresses our sorrowing sisters, sorrowing and helpless in a foreign and most ungenial clime, ܂ 1 I had quitted Sir Jemsetjee's house, and was and festivities in which the Parsees delight so enjoying the refreshment of tea with my kind much, her fate does not materially differ from friend Manockjee Cursetjee, at his house, a few that of a young Englishwoman commencing the doors from the knight's, when my attention was duties and cherished responsibilities of a wife. excited by a blaze of light, which I found to And thus, sweet bride, with heartfelt good wishes proceed from hundreds of lanterns, swinging in and pleasant thoughts, we say farewell to thee! pairs from the tops of bamboos some ten feet Be thou as one among the "honourable women,” high, and carried by coolies engaged to light the whose clothing is not only vestures "of gold procession of the bride to her husband's house. wrought about with needle-work," but whose An avenue was now formed, and the fair Feroze-"strength and honour are her clothing," and bhai appeared, surrounded by her female friends, whose "works praise her in the gates." and enveloped in a crimson saree, closely drawn round her face and figure. She was then carefully placed in an open palankeen, decorated with cushions and tassels of green and gold; this was immediately raised, and borne between her male relatives, while the guests of both sexes attended it in distinct groups, but both men and women holding hands, and walking slowly, two and two. The innumerable lights gave full effect to this interesting scene, and two bands lent their aid to render it yet more dramatic. The looker-on could not but be impressed with the singularity of the procession, and the strange fact of this fair girl, whose life had been passed in the seclusion of her own splendid home, being thus brought forth and borne above the heads of the crowd, through the close streets of the crowded fort; a blaze of light cast on her delicate and shrinking form, and curiously gazed on by the lowest of the people; and, this misery past, to enter her husband's house, and lead a life secluded as before. Yet such is the " custom," painful and revolting though it be, and, as I remarked before, no further explanation is required. It was pleasant, however, to know that in the fate of this fair Parsee there was less harshness than attends the lives of many of those who dared scarcely look from their lattices upon her, a fact arising from the strictness of Mohammedan and Hindoo customs. Ferozebhai, it was pleasant to remember, had not married one old enough to be her father, the present husband perhaps of a trio of fair dames; nor had she been betrothed in childhood to one she could not but detest; she looks not forward to a life whose sole pleasure is gossip, whose chief luxury is sloth; in her case there is no funeral pyre, with its greedy flames, ever dancing before a terror-excited imagination. Happily, no. Her cousin husband has won her girlish heart; she fears not the influence of other wives, or any degradation at her husband's hands. She will have cheerful association with her friends, and possess a degree of liberty unknown to other Eastern women; by Parsee edict, no legal rival can dispute her power; and, but that the venetians of her carriage are only half-open to the morning and evening breezes, as she drives to her country houses, to enjoy the family pic-nics "Lips though rosy must be fed ;" and lips of a less charming hue must also receive sustenance, despite ceremonies, cashmeres, and stiff muslins; the Parsees especially, too, agree in the idea that life in Bombay would be but a dull thing were it not illustrated by plates, as poor Theodore hath it of London; consequently, as soon as the bride had left her father's house, dinner commenced, and as this entertainment was likely to last some hours, I thankfully accepted Manockjee's invitation to look through his library; for which purpose we proceeded to his father's house. On the steps we met Manockjee's interesting little daughter, Koonverbhai, who had run home for a moment to change her delicate blue and silver saree for a less brilliant one, in anticipation of passing the evening in romps and pastime with the bride and her companions. The little lady was in high spirits and under great excitement, but gentle, well bred, and courteous, as ever. Placing her little soft hand in mine, she carefully led me up the winding staircase of the house, smiling and chatting all the way, in the most winning manner, and never for a moment betraying the anxiety she felt to return to her more congenial party. On entering the drawing-room we found a weary group, for six days and nights of festival will tire the most zealous in mirth and gaiety; Manockjee's younger son, Shereen," was especially so, and taking off his little body-coat and turban, and appearing in his loose muslin vest, scarlet trousers, and blue satin skull cap, he threw himself on a sofa, and was soon fast asleep. Manockjee's wife was also there, with her pretty round-faced little baby; but as she spoke only Guzerattee, the language now used by the Parsees, our intercourse was confined to an interchange of smiles. Soon after ten I left Manockjee Cursetjee's, to attend the natch at Sir Jemsetjee's "Bower," as the Parseces called it. The band of the 20th N. I. were still playing polkas with great zeal, and the guests had not yet left the feast. Cursetjee, Jemsetjee and the bridegroom, however, received us, and a servant presented a large salver, covered with bouquets of delicious roses; but no sooner had I taken one than he sprinkled it with scented water, from a golden golaubdani, which notion of adding as it were "perfume to 1 Prov. xxxi. the violet," was too completely in native taste for me to approve. A few days before this the Meer, who had been at a large party at Sunkersett's, presented me a bouquet, every blossom in which was marred with gold leaf. Sir Jemsetjee's people were less barbarous in this case, but the little triangular packets of pan suparree, folded in fresh plantain leaf, were gilded most profusely. The dancing-room was elegantly decorated, spread with rich carpets, and lighted with massive silver candelabras and splendid chandeliers; the cornices and pilasters painted with garlands of flowers, evidently by a French artist, and the draperies of pale pink silk. The taifa consisted of only two natch women, but good specimens of their profession; both were young and handsome, wearing the tight trowser and bell-shaped dress, of gauze, embroidered with gold. The contrast of colour was pretty; one dancer wearing dark crimson and gold, and her companion pale blue and silver. Natches resemble each other so nearly that a description of the present would be a work of supererogation indeed, and altogether intolerable to the reader; it is enough to say that the dancers at Sir Jemsetjee's were perfect in their art. They advanced, retired, revolved, and advanced again, as usual, while the musicians grinned, and nodded, and stamped, and made horrible faces of intense excitement, as it is their duty to do. Thus the spectators were lulled and charmed by turns into a succession of the most perfect satisfactions. Behind the dancers a full curtain that depended from an arch excited my curiosity, and under pretence of viewing nearer the decorations of the salon, I peeped behind it. Stretching away to what really seemed an interminable distance, were supper-tables laden with rich plate, decorated with epergnes and roses, and abundantly studded with certain long-necked bottles, in vases of fresh ice. The guests now strolling in, I felt that, as the only European present, I might be considered an intruder on the scene, and after being escorted to my carriage by a strong party of "links," I proceeded through the fort. The will to return was, however, easier than the deed; for the town generally, and the Sunkersett bazaar, with its environs, were filled with wedding parties; lights flashed from every house, coloured Chinese paper lanterns swung from every porch, tomtoms were beaten, and singers screamed in loud discord on every side; fireworks cracked, and torchmen rushed wildly from street to street. It may be imagined that all this merry madness, combined with a bright moonlight, and a pair of very fresh and shying horses, rendered my homeward course rather an erratic one, making it. late before we drove through the gates of Gergaum House, whither my friends, Meer Jaffur and Meer Acbar, the bidden guests, had preceded me, I found, some hours. CHARADE. M. D. G. WHEN aught of lustre charms the sight, Second Part of K. Henry VI., Act iii. sc. 3. ". . . . the touching image of death stands Not as a fear to the wise, and not as an end to the pious." GÖTHE'S Herrmann and Dorothea. MR. LIONEL ROAKES was regaling his college friends and acquaintance with a handsome farewell breakfast, when the scout brought in a packet of letters. "Williams,-little and great Williams!" he remarked, as, after a hasty inspection of their exterior, he cast them unopened into a wicker basket under the table. "Dirty, malevolent bills! What can be the use of sending them in to one who has no pa-pa? Here are confirmed bilious symptoms; " and, holding up the basket, he turned over its contents. mortal Homeopathy! I could never survive but for that science of sciences!" "Im "The most inveterate symptoms cured by infinitesimally small doses, eh?" drawled, the Honourable Mr. Browne, who was one of the guests. "Art "Splendid principle," continued Roakes. backs nature; helps her to knock over the confounded disease. Of course; how can there be any more symptoms when they're all spent?" The speaker had articulated these broken sentences in a rapid and indistinct manner, whilst he carelessly turned over and over the various envelopes in "What's this?" he suddenly exhis wicker basket. claimed, as he snatched from the rest a letter directed (1) Continued from p. 239. in a well-known hand-writing. "From the old 'un! | gates of the two parks; and stretching so far into the road as to leave only a narrow opening for the passage of vehicles and horses. At the moment at which the coach arrived at this passage, two lancers trotted briskly past. Shades of filial duty! Pitching a mother's affection amongst her son's ever-to-be-belaboured harpies! Browne, old fellow," (Mr. Browne curled his lip, and looked at the speaker)-" a glass of champagne, just to keep my spirits up before I 'open sesame.' To your first! How ever did you get it? What's this rigmarole on the envelope? Lionel Roakes, Esq., With his affectionate mother's congratulations on the Lucky I'm going down. This blessed public sort of a mother's love would be all over Oxford in a few days. A dash under honourable! What can she mean by that? I 'gin funk, as the poets have it, and winkin mary buds 'gin wake,' et cætera. She's queer at times!" "Pull up!" shouted the coachman. There was not much difficulty in obeying this word of command on the ascent of the hill. The horses shook their heads, as if dissenting from the doctrine of being pulled up wherever their driver chose, and fidgeted about, as if unwilling to wait for any one. 66 Perhaps you had better take the ribbons," suggested Roakes, at the same time handing them to their rightful owner, and resigning his seat. Whilst he was making the exchange, his attention was attracted by a small but very high platform, filled with the very commonest people; and conspicuous amongst them, what should he discover but the desperately attractive dress of his mother! At this moment, the Queen's guard of lancers trotted past, and Mrs. Roakes, in turning to look at it, caught sight of her son on the coach box of the Telegraph; a species of article into which she instantly became transformed. The marabouts in her bonnet shook violently, her steel-bedecked reticule was elevated, and glittered dazzlingly in the sunbeams as she waved it in hopes of attracting her Bachelor son's attention. He saw the pantomime plainly enough—too plainly — but, drawing his hat over his eyes, looked in another di"A trump, decidedly!—I wish I had written for rection. The grooms in front of the royal carriage more," murmured Roakes, thoughtfully. At length, being quite up to the mark, Mr. L. Roakes collectedly tore open the envelope; and, drawing from thence a £300 Bank note, held it up, to the admiration of the company. "Three cheers for Mrs. Roakes!" exclaimed a short, slight man, with a small quantity of sandy hair, quick grey eyes, and a pointed, penetrating countenance. And cheers resounded from all parts of the room. now appeared through the gates; and, immediately succeeding them, the royal carriage itself. Shouts rent the air, and terrified the horses of the Tele ears, and kicking, and standing up on hind legs; nor ever was heard such a rattling of harness, aud sound of hoofs against the splinter bars. "Catch hold of their ears, or they'll be off!" shouted the coachman, in a deliberate and resolute tone; "and then I wouldn't give a tizzy for the ole kit o' ye!" Shortly after this incident the breakfast party broke up. Roakes paid a few of the more clamorous of his creditors. On the following day a Congrega-graph. Never was seen such a laying down of tion was held, which, much to that gentleman's amusement, enjoyed the pleasant recreation of conferring upon him the degree of "Baccalaureus Artium." The next morning saw him with some of his friends on the top of the last surviving coach to London. A fee of one pound to the coachman purchased for him the privilege of holding the ribbons, and twisting and untwisting the long-lashed whip. The greatest industry he had ever exhibited had been in acquiring the art of catching the doubled thong neatly on the fall; and even the coachman ever and anon cast a leer of envy at the consummate skill with which he performed this feat, Instantly, a swarm of male bipeds of every shade of dirt and costume were busy assisting; but so violent were the "tits," that it required three or four men holding on to the ears, neck, and bit, of each horse to restrain them. One exceedingly elaborately dressed, delicate-looking youth of about twenty white-gloved hand by way of assistance, smoking his cigar the while, and gently held a distant part of one of the reins with the tips of his fingers. The officiating coachman was one of the nearly extinct "bluff" species; and, in the profoundest contempt of this ill-placed dandyism, flipped him with the extreme end of the whip-cord of his whip with such precision and effect, that the young gentleman was heard to exclaim, as he walked off evidently in a more smart condition than before, "Pawn me word! hextrim hinsirlence!" Well, nay perfectly, as Roakes caught the whip-five, beautiful in whiskers and an imperial, extended a thong on the fall, it would have been sheer flattery to call him even a tolerable "whip." Dick Barnet, the coachman, however, was at his side; and, in spite of a little difficulty in managing the team into London, an honour he would almost rather have risked his own neck and those of the other passengers than resign, the journey was made in safety as far as to Hyde Park Corner. The last stage was a short one. It had been done somewhat leisurely, in order that the team (so said the present driver of it) might come in cool and gentlemanly; so that the animals, four bays, young, and in fine condition, were very fresh. To Roakes' unspeakable dismay, a dense mass of people was seen on the top of the hill, about the A very few seconds sufficed for the passing of the royal cavalcade, and the team was now at liberty to proceed. "Let them go!" growled the driver; "I'll take it out on 'em to-morrow!" The whole swarm which had settled on the heads and necks of the animals, looked up with an expression of astonishment into his face, as much as to say, "You don't mean that?" "Let them go!" he reiterated, in a stentorian tone. In an instant they were free. All four immediately took a survey of Piccadilly on their hind legs, and, dashing forward, sprung up into the air as though they would have cleared the metropolis at a jump. A steady but sharp pull of the ribbons from behind impressed a wholesome lesson upon their forwardness by throwing the two wheelers upon their haunches, and one of the leaders down upon his front legs. This seemed convincing; for three of them immediately trotted off at a handsome trot, the off leader still adhering to a short gallop, all, however, evidently in a somewhat mortified condition, and doing their work in some such manner as a Quaker pays church-rates. Scarcely were they well off before a loud crash, accompanied with piercing shrieks, proceeded from the multitude they were just beginning to leave behind. "There's work for the milliners!" remarked the coachman, with his head turned towards the quarter from which the sounds had proceeded. "I wouldn't give second-hand price for the bonnets and gowns arter that disaster. I hope nobody be hurt." "I must get down here," said Lionel Roakes, who, on turning round, saw that the exalted platform and every one on it had entirely disappeared. Leave my luggage at the Cellars. Pull up, Dick!" "Sit still, sir; sit still," growled Dick; "I can't stop 'em again yet. They're like mad things still. You can't be of no good. Them 's is smashed is smashed; and you can't unsmash 'em, you can't, sir." “Pull up, Dick, do you hear? Pull up instantly. I shall get down here, on this spot," said Roakes, making a movement to descend. "Oh, werry well, sir," Dick replied, with unusual saavity of manner, at the same time hitching his thong, and drawing the whipcord through his blue mouth. "By all manner of means. In course you must do as you please. Only take care of your shins. I shan't stop, as the treadmill said to the housebreaker." Finding Dick thus inflexible, Roakes raised himself again to the box, and whispered something into his ear, which sent all the filial affection that dwelt in his corpulent frame, colouring up into the only features of Dick's face which could by any possibility | have been redder than they already were. "O bless me no! O bless me no!" he muttered, "Why on airth didn't you say so before? I beg your pardon-beg your pardon, sir;" and with one strong, steady pull, every one of the four bays was reined in as still as a stone wall. Roakes lost no time in descending and hastening to the spot of the catastrophe; where he arrived just in time to attend his mother, as she was borne in a senseless state into St. George's Hospital. Deplorable VOL. VI. | indeed was the state of external dilapidation in which Mrs. Roakes was laid upon the plain clean bed, in the only apartment in the hospital that chanced to be unoccupied. There she lay a complete wreck. How changed from the telegraphing splendour, which her son had been averse to recognise before his Oxford friends! Some evil disposed person had pirated her shawl in the confusion; her rich black satin dress was torn into tatters, like a fore-sail in a hurricane; the white chip bonnet was crunched into a handful; and of all the delicate marabouts which Madame Smithiano had so exquisitely arranged, only one wretched stump remained clinging to the fore-top. The beaded reticule was imbedded immovably in her clenched hand; from either side of which two tasselled corners protruded, in a state of apoplectic distension, through the violent pressure they were experiencing. The house surgeon was quickly at her side; and in a very few minutes was able to pronounce, with some decision, that he did not apprehend more serious consequences than a severe fright, and perhaps one or two slight contusions. Her pulse was a trifle hurried, but strong and regular; her breathing was but slightly affected, and no limb was broken, nor feature displaced. However, it was impossible to decide positively until she came out of her present state of apparent insensibility. "In fact," continued the surgeon, "that is the only symptom that affords me the slightest uneasiness." Just as this observation had escaped his lips, Mrs. Roakes opened her eyes, with such a fearfully scared expression depicted in them, that her medical attendant was all but thrown into a fit of violent titillation of the risible muscles. "Where am I-where-where?" she asked, in a tone of agony; and shuddering violently, relapsed into her former state of apoplectic coma. The surgeon was puzzled; and was just thinking of becoming anxious about his patient, when she returned again to consciousness. Throwing her eyes wildly about the room, "What is this?" she asked, "where am I? Not Mr. Perigord's? Am I dying? O tell me-am I dying? I won't die-I can't die yet!" And covering her face with her hands, she went into a strong fit of hysterical crying. “That is exactly what I wanted; that will do her more good than anything. She will fall asleep after this," whispered the surgeon to Lionel Roakes; and then added in a gentle tone, to his patient, calm, my dear lady, you have been very much frightened-you are not seriously hurt." "Be "O don't tell me so; I am-I know I am," she replied, "I'm dying-I'm dying-O doctor, keep me from dying. Where is my son? O dear, what am I saying?" |