the Indian guitar and tambourine; and, notwithstanding the distraction which grief had produced, she retained her beauty in full bloom. All this may perhaps be thought consistent with Pope's character of the female sex; but I do not believe, with that great poet, that " every woman is at heart a rake;" nor that "every woman would be queen for life." In short, I must free my favourite Hattima from the glance of suspicion, that she had forgotten her own Mootee Moota.

The change in Hattima's manner, from excessive grief to seeming cheerful passive obedience, was caused by communications from a gooru, or priest of her religion, who had been sent to comfort her, as it was apprehended she would sink under her affliction. We are so generally accustomed to have the characters of the clergy of all countries drawn in an unfavourable point of view, that I am refreshed with the idea of being able to do justice to a worthy man of the order; for such, to the full extent of the word, was Gooru Chittamun Doss. He was an aged man, of venerable aspect and signal piety; his time was given up to his duty, and all his leisure was devoted to

the perusal of the sacred records of Brahma; he had a great part of the voluminous vedas and purannas by heart. Belonging to a sect that marry, his soul had been softened by all the ecstacy of parental joy; and when Hattima told her sad story in all the sublimity of simple narrative, he turned away and wept bitterly. I think I perceive a smile, and hear the reader exclaim: "Mr. Author, none of your fancy-pictures. Pooh! tears, indeed, from a brahman! Have you forgotten the accounts we have of their lingums and secret proceedings? Pah! pah ! Mr. Author, do not now be drawing an Indian long-bow, or hurling at us a magical Mahratta spear."-" But, fair lady, or most gallant sir, pause, if you please. Pray reflect that brahmans are men. The Almighty Creator has given us sensations of pity, mercy, and love, which no system, set up by the devil, can completely subvert. There are good, kind hearts and souls among the brahmans, as well as amongst our own clergy. Was there ever yet a set of men completely bad or good?"

Chittamun Doss, when he could command his tongue, putting his white beard aside, and laying

his hand on the sacred brahmanical string of beads, which he wore round his neck, said, "My daughter, be of good cheer. The great God is looking down with a smiling face on your sorrow; his right arm will uphold you; in the breath of his presence you smell sweet. Your case is a cruel one: but look around you-here are numbers who have been dragged away from their families; you see no traces of grief on their blooming cheeks. Dance, song, love, and music employ their rosy hours. They have bartered virtue for pleasure, and the Creator has recorded that they have failed in performing their pooja.* In the next life you will see them flying about as bats. As for you, if you preserve your faith and truth, you will be the companion of a peacock: your plumage will shine more richly then, than all the splendour which now surrounds you; and in time you will be taken into the bosom of Brahma, there to repose in unutterable bliss for ever. But hear me. In this world we must oppose wickedness by cunning. Follow my plan, and you will Pooja is performed in a thousand ways, sometimes by torturing the body.

do well. Feign an interest in all you see, dress that beautiful face in smiles, and trust to the God who gave you charms for preservation. Thus you will live for your own Mootee Moota, to whom a comforting angel has been sent; and you may yet be blessed with his embraces in this world. Now, farewell, my poor daughter; think of what I have said; send for me frequently, and be of good cheer."

From Gooru Chittamun Doss, Hattima received much curious information respecting Raja Futteh Amul Singh, and his twelve hundred dancing-girls. This being a piece of private history, I think myself fortunate in having such a morsel for the reader's digestion.

Futteh Amul Singh was a Rajpoot prince, with pretensions to family rank of twelve thousand years before Adam was born. The encroachments of the Moguls had, however, reduced him to comparative poverty, though he had still more wealth than he could expend in his restrained state of power. As he had no political consequence, he consoled himself with the stupifying excess of debauchery and liquid opium, till his

bodily and mental energy was completely dead. In short, he had become imbecile, and almost helpless, at an age when other men luxuriate in the excess of animal life. His twelve hundred ladies were to him nothing but visions; he saw selections of their beauty dancing around him, like fairies in a dream; his dose was all the excitement he could feel from their soft touch-his pleasure, when it mounted to ecstacy, was the profoundness of sleep. To hear the horn of his nose sound in full deep harmony, was the signal of retreat for his charming dancing-girls: he could be aroused from constant torpor only by the pouring of prodigious doses of opium down his throat. In short, he was never visible to the people; his whole affairs were managed by Gooru Chittamun Doss. According to usage, a large revenue was raised on the charms of the dancinggirls or slaves; they were sent over the country in companies, as actresses, story-tellers, balladsingers, musicians, and dancers, to raise money by affording amusement, and to sell their favours to such as could buy them; being accompanied by governors who gave them only a certain share of