to the shorter arm of the lever. This primitive machine, so necessary to the purposes of Bengali life, is set up in almost every household in the Mofussil. Agreeably to the well-known principle of Hindu theology, that what is useful is adorable, the dhenki has divine homage rendered to it, on the occasions of giving the first rice to a child, of marriage, and of investiture with the sacred thread. But besides these occasional adorations, the homely pedal is regularly worshipped by females, in some parts of the country, with much pomp, once a year, in the month of Baisakh. On that occasion, the head of the rice-cleaning machine is painted with vermillion, anointed with the conseerating oil, and presented with rice and the durva grass. origin of the worship of the pedal is no less singular. A worthy religious preceptor had commanded his disciple to repeat the word dhenki, at least one hundred and eight times a day. Nárad, the musician of the celestials, and the patron deity of the pedal, delighted with the devotion of the disciple, paid him a visit riding on a dhenki, and gave him a blessing, in virtue of which the self-denying votary was translated into heaven.

The

In addition to the great swinging festival, to be noticed in its proper place, there is held in this month a swinging festival, on a smaller scale, in honor of an inferior god named Dharmaraj. This festival is, by no means, prevalent throughout the country, but is confined to particular localities. In connection with the swinging festival of Dharmaraj, we may remark, that in some places is worshipped, in this month, a log of wood dignified with the name of Debánsi, or partaker of the divine nature, and to which is attributed the rare quality of visiting sacred places through subterranean roads.

In the month of Jaishtha, that is, the end of May and beginning of June, the descent of Gangá is celebrated, Jagannath is bathed, the protectress of children adored, and sons-in-law feasted.

We shall not recount here, for the hundredth time, the story of the descent of the sacred river Ganges from the sublime top of Baikuntha; how she rushed from the matted hair of the vagabond Shiva; how she followed the foot-steps of the conchBounding Bhagirath; and how, after passing through places rendered memorable in the geography of Hindu pilgrimage, she fell into the wide sea, and liberated the sixty thousand sons of the mighty king of Oude. The anniversary of this event is celebrated with much pomp in Bengal, in the month of Jaishtha. On that occasion, the banks of the sacred river are adorned with garlands of flowers, and lined with thousands of people, who perform their ablutions; the favour of the river deity is celebrated by suitable adorations; the finny inhabitants

of the deep are presented with offerings; lamps of clarified butter are lighted up; the officiating priests are amply rewarded, and brahmans in general entertained. This festival is called Dasahará, because it is believed that a proper observance of it takes away the sins of ten births.

The patroness of mothers and the protectress of children is Shashti, who is repesented by the image of a woman, riding on a cat, and nursing a child. This amiable goddess is regarded with particular affection by all Hindu mothers. At the birth of a child, homage is rendered to her; and presents to her are neither few nor far between, so long as the child does not give proofs of approaching manhood; at the attainment of which, an end is put to her controlling influence. Every son, every daughter is regarded as the child and servant of Shashti, and when afflicted with sickness, offerings proper to her dignity and taste are cheerfully made. The domestic cat, the animal on which the guardian of children chooses to ride, is, in consequence, in every Hindu family, treated with peculiar tenderness; to strike puss with a broom-stick being looked upon as a species of daring impiety. Many are the vows which Hindu mothers pay to Shashti, for the preservation and welfare of their offspring. No less than six festivals are annually celebrated in honour of this child-protecting goddess, of which the one held in the month of Jaishtha is the most remarkable. Not unlike the Dryads of a foreign mythology, Shashti loves to dwell in the trunk of the Indian fig. In the out-skirts of every Hindu village in Bengal, there is found a Banian tree, dedicated to this wood-nymph. There might you see, on a fair and sunshiny day of Jaishtha, all the women of the village assembled. There might you see the smiling faces of mothers, all radiant with joy, their hands bearing the holy offering, and their persons dressed with the finest clothes and adorned with the costliest ornaments. There might you see, too, women unblessed with " bonnie bairns," those pledges of love, their countenances tinged with the deepest melancholy, and their lips muttering fervent petitions to the unpropitious deity. The officiating priest or priestess, as the case may be, repeats the sacred mantras; the musical tom-toms give out their harsh dissonance; barren women eagerly receive presents from those blessed with children; and the fair procession retraces its steps to the village. But the festival is not over yet; for newly married men it has peculiar attractions. Sons-in-law are invited by their fathersin-law, are presented with flowers and clothes, and are hospitably entertained. Festivity gladdens every home, and all rejoice in the amenities of the child-protecting goddess.

A third festival is held in the month of Jaishtha; it is the bathing of Jagannath. Every resident in Bengal must have seen the armless stump of an ill-shaped image, dignified with the appellation of the "lord of the world." On the occasion of the bathing festival, this ugly divinity, wrapped up with cloth, is carried out of its temple and seated on a recess built for the purpose. Amid the chaunts of Vedic incantations by brahmans, and the loud shouts of the spectators, the soi-disant "lord of the world" is divested of his garments, and bathed with the water of the Bhagirathi. The ceremony over, the spectators make presentations of flowers, sweetmeats, and money, to the new-washed deity, all which, we need scarcely say, are appropriated by the priests to their own use. The bathing festival is celebrated with the greatest pomp, at the sacred Puri in Orissa; but in Bengal it is held nowhere in a grander style than in a small village near Serampore. Thousands of people repair to the village, to witness the spectacle. It is a scene, however, more of dissolute licentiousness than of superstitious devotion. Old women, no doubt, go thither, purely for purposes of mistaken sanctity; but most of the spectators regard the whole affair as a sort of wanton amusement. Black-guards of every shape leave the metropolis, and frequent this scene of merriment. Most of the public women of the city make it a point of going, every year, to witness the celebration of the grand bathing festival. Young coxcombs, with their mistresses, swell the throng of the devotees. In the boats which leave the several ghâts of Calcutta, to waft the gay religionists to Mahesh, for that is the name of the village where the festival is celebrated, nothing is to be heard, but the most licentious songs and the filthiest language. The pernicious influence which such a congregation of men and women exerts on Hindu society is inconceivable.

In the month of A'sárha, that is, the latter part of June and former of July, the only considerable festival that is held is what is called the Ratha-Yátrá, or the car festival. About a fortnight after the bathing of Jagannath, he is placed on a wooden car, comfortably seated in which he enjoys the benefit of a summer drive. The car is a huge unwieldy sort of chariot, moving upon wheels, and dragged by means of ropes attached to it. For facilities of locomotion, it is, perhaps, the worst possible machine that could have been invented. Besides the monstrous cars at Puri in Orissa, every Hindu village almost in Bengal has its separate car, in which the "Moloch of the East" is paraded about. In the city of Calcutta, there are, we imagine, several hundreds of cars; although, of late years, the number has considerably

diminished. Before every large car, as it goes clattering along the ground, is poured forth the rich music of the deepsounding mridanga and the deafening cymbals. Bands of singers, with stentorian voices, celebrate the praises of Krishna, and shows are exhibited. To assist in the movement of the ponderous machine, is reckoned a meritorious act; and hence old men, as well as children, eagerly grasp the dragging rope. We need not remind the reader that the car festival is celebrated with the greatest pomp and in the highest style in the Puri of Jagannath, in Orissa, to which hundreds of thousands of Hindus resort from all parts of India. Time was, when the deluded votaries of a most diabolical superstition stretched themselves under the wheels of the gigantic cars, and crushed themselves to death, with the hope of obtaining felicity in the coming world; but the beneficent spirit of the British Government has put a stop to these enormities. But in spite of this auspicious circumstance, every village car, by the filthy representations painted on it, exerts a most baleful influence on the morals of the people.

In the month of Shrábana, consisting of part of July and part of August, are held two festivals, the rocking festival, and the worship of the queen of serpents.

Krishna, the most popular of all the gods of the Hindu pantheon, is the object of adoration in the Jhulana-Yátrá, or the rocking festival. A throne, made sometimes of silver, but oftener of wood, is suspended from the ceiling by ropes, in a room adjoining the residence of the god. On this throne is placed the black deity, decked with gay ornaments. Like a child rocked in its cradle, the playful shepherd of Gokul is made to swing in his chair of state. The god, after being rocked to his heart's content, is removed to his shrine, where he is worshipped with a variety of offerings, accompanied with instrumental music. The adoration over, the friends of the proprietor of the house where the festival takes place, are entertained with sweet-meats. The revelry of the night is concluded with a scenic representation of the loves of Krishna, in which ugly boys and grown-up men perform the parts of the charming Rádhá and the fair milk-maids of Brindában. In this representation, the amours of the wanton lover of Mathura are detailed with disgusting circumstantiality; filthy songs are sung, with the melody of the screeching night-owl; and the actors exhibit a thousand indecent gestures and gesticulations of the body. For five, or, more generally, for three successive nights, is the god rocked, friends are entertained, and the abominable representations repeated. Need we wonder, after witnessing

these and other similar exhibitions, at the general profligacy of Hindu manners, and the destruction of all refined feelings of morality and delicacy? Need we be surprised, in the face of these deteriorating causes, if the combined influence of education and Christian truth has not yet effected so much improvement as is desirable in the moral tone of the Hindu community?

It is not a little singular, that the odious and venomous race of serpents should ever become the objects of human adoration. Whether it be, that the mighty dragon who "deceived the mother of mankind" has, by his wicked arts, prevailed upon men to establish the worship of the serpent, as a monument of his great power, and a memorial of their inglorious fall; or, that the shape and the voluminous coilings of the hateful reptile, suggested the ideas of eternity and power, as they did to the Egyptians of old; or whether it be that it is reckoned an acknowledged maxim in religion, that what is dreaded should be worshipped, certain it is, that most nations of antiquity rendered divine homage to serpents. It is well known that all tropical countries are infested with snakes. Towards the end of the summer season, but especially during the rains, serpents issue out of their holes, and do great mischief to men and animals. In Bengal, hundreds of persons die every year of the bite of the snake. Hence, on many occasions throughout the year, the dreaded Manasá-Devi, the queen of snakes, is propitiated by presents, vows, and religious rites. In the month of Shrábana, the worship of the snake-goddess is celebrated with great eclát. An image of the goddess, seated on a water-lily, encircled with serpents, or a branch of the snake-tree (a species of euphorbia,) or a pot of water, with images of serpents made of clay, forms the object of worship. Men, women and children, all offer presents, to avert from themselves the wrath of the terrific deity. The Máls or snake-catchers signalize themselves on this occasion. Temporary scaffolds of bambu-work are set up in the presence of the goddess. Vessels filled with all sorts of snakes are brought in. The Máls, often reeling with intoxication, mount the scaffolds, take out serpents from the vessels, and allow them to bite their arms. The whole race of serpentry is defied. From the. slender and harmless Hele, to the huge Boa-constrictor and the terrific Cobra-de-capello, all make their appearance, and exert their might to strike dead the playful Máls. Bite after bite succeeds; the arms run over with blood; and the Máls go on with their pranks, amid the deafening plaudits of the spectators. Now and then they fall off from the scaffold, and pretend to feel the