Rensselaer Republican, Volume 14, Number 33, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 May 1882 — Page 2

HINDOO WIDOWS.

Th? HorribleSacrlflce Which They are Called Upon to Make.. , A mor? mistaken idea pt conjugal duty, or a more severe and ‘ painful test of conjugal affection, ca£ not be conceived than that of the Hindoo widow who disdained to live after her husband, voluntarily mounts the funeral pile on which his dead body is placed, au amiable victim to a bar? berous faith. Considerable pains had been taken by the British Government to stop these horrid rites, but without effect; indeed, it seems that so far from the custom having been diminished, it has increased. It appears from a return made to Parlinient on this subject, in 1821, that the number of Hindoo widows who were burnt or buried alive with theif husbands, in the same number of districts, was, in the 1815, 378: in 1819,442; in 1817, 709. and in 1818, 839. A Hindoo widow who resolves thus to devote herself, abstains from food as soon as her husband is dead, chewing betel, and invoking, without ceasing. the god of her husband’s sect, When the fatal hour arrives she addorns herself with her jewels, and puts on her most costly attire, as if she were going to a festival, She is accompanied by the music of drums and trumpets. The victim affectionately embraces her friends and relatives, among whom she distributes part if her jewels and ornaments; she comforts-them 4 while they bless her and entreat her prayers to God to grant then the fortitude she manifests in pimilar circumstances. The widows generally meet death with heroic firmness and constancy, convinced that in thus burning themselves from conjugal attachment they shall by the sacrifice, deliver their husbands from the torture of the next life, whatever crimes he may have committed in this. Mr. Holwell, well known as having been one of the wretched prisoners in the Black hole of Calcutta, gives an account of one Hindoo widow, who, being told of the pain she must suffer, with a view to dissuade her from her intention, put. her finger into the fire and held It there for a considerable time, after which she nut fire on the palm of her band, laid incense upon it and fumigated the Bramins who were present.

Bernier, who has an interesting article on this subject in Harleian Collection, speaking of the undaunted resolution which a widow at Surat exhibited says, “I cannot do justice to the scene of suffering; the confidence with w’hich she looked on us European spectators, and met the view of her little cabin, made up of dried millet straw and small wood, prepared for the catastrophe. The remembrance of the impressive manner in which she entered this receptacle, sat down upon the pile and took her husband’s hand into her lap, will never desert me; nor can time ever efface the recolleclion of my feelings when I calmly saw her take a torch, and with her own hands kindle the reeds within, while I know not how many Brami ns without were doing the same thing. I ean at present scarcely think the scene possible, though but a few days since I beheld it.” Mr. Forbes, in his “Oriental Memoirs,” mentions the case of a female whose husband had amply provided for her, aud, what is very unusual among Hindoos, made her totally independent of his family. All was of no avail, she persisted in her determination to accompany him into a better world, and suffered not the tears and supplications of an aged mother ahd three helpless infants to divert her from her purpose. The funeral pyre was erected, and an immense concourse of people of all ranks assembled and a band of music accompanied the Braining, who superintended the ceremony. The bower of death, enwreathed with sacred flowers, was erected ever a pile of sandal wood and spices, on which lay the body of the deceased. After various ceremonies the music ceased and the

the crowd, in t solemn silence, awaited the arrival of the heroine. She approached, attended by her mother and three children, arrayed in rich attire, and wearing hymenial crown, an ornament peculiar to an Hindoo bride at her marriage. After a few religous ceremonies the attendants took oft her jewels annointing her disheveled hair with consecrated ghee, as also the skirts of her flowing robe of yellow muslin, (the color of nuptial blis«), Two lisping infants clung around her knees to dissuade her from her fatal purpose; tha last pledge or conjugal love was taken from her bosom by an aged parent in speechless agony. Freed from these heart-piercing mourners, the lovely widow, with an air of solemn majesty, received a lighted torch from one of the Bramins, with which she walked seven times round the pyre. Stopping near the entrance of the bower for the last time, she addressed the fire and worshipped the other deities, as prescribed in the “Sutte-ved”; then setting fire to her hair and the skirts of her robe to render herself the only brand worthy of illuminating the sacred pile, she threw away the torch, rushed into the bower, and, embracing her busband, thus communicated the flames to the surrounding branches. The musicians immediately struck up theloudest strains to drown the cries of the victim, should her courage have forcaken her; but several of the specta tors dec'ared that the serenity of her countenance and the dignity of her behavior surpassed all the sacrifices of a similar nature they had ever witnessed. As polygamy is allowed among the Hindoos, it frequently happens that more than one widow immolates her- > self with the dead body of the husband. In 1807 a Koolin Bramin (the

purest of all the Bramins, and who are privileged "to marry as many wives as they please) died at the advanced age of 92. He had tyelve Wives, three of wham were burned alive witn his dead body. Obe of these was an aged and venerable female, wha,.being udable to walk, was carried in a palanquin to the funeral pile. In the year 1799 twenty-two females were -turned alive with the remains ofUnuntu, a Koolin Brarnin, ofßagruiparu, who had more than 100 wives. At the first kindling of the fire only three of these wives had arrived. The fire was kept kindled three days. When one or more arrived the ceremonies were gone through, and they threw tbemsejves on the blazing pile. On the first day three were burned, and on the second and third nineteen more. Among these women some are 40 years old, and others as young as 16. In 1812 another Koolin Brarnin died at Chunakuli. near Calcutta, who had married twenty-five women, thirteen ofwhomdiedin his lifetime. The remaining twelve perished with him on the funeral pile, leaving thirty children to deplore the effects of this horrid system.

Some years previous to this eight een women, the only survivors of.the forty wives of another Koolin Brarnin, who died at Soukachura, three miles east of Seram pore, sacrificed themselves in the usual way. On this occasion a fire extended ten or twtelve yards in length was prepared, into which the remainihg eighteen threw themselves, leaving more than forty children. It is however, an indisputable article in Hindoo laws "that the mother of an infant child may not relinquish the care of her infant to ascend the funeral pile.” In some cases widows sacrifice themselves several years after the death of their husbands, after being earlier prevented; or if voluntarily avoiding it, they afterward entertain a superstitious ‘ apprehension that they have not done their duty. In the parlimentary report to which we have alluded, it is stated that in November, 1817 Massuiuaut Rammoesa, aged 80, whose husband had been absent from his home fifteen years, being assured of his death, resolved to sacrifice herself, but in such Cases the body of the husband is wanting, the widow generally takes some article that belonged to him, with which she mounts the funeral pile. ’•here are not a few cases in which, when children have been bethrothed, and the males died before any consummation of the marriage, the female waits until she has reached womanhood, and then sacrifices herself. An instance of this sort occurred in 1819, when a young woman in her 15 th year resolved to perform the ceremony, the person to whom she had been betrothed bavidg died when she was only 6 years of age; she requested a fiddle which had belonged to her husband to be given to her, and notwithstanding the remonstrances of her friends immolated herself to his manes. In the same year, another Brarnin, who had been married at 7 years of age, and whose husband had died the year after, determined to become a suttee. She was ndw 19 years of age, and it was 11 years since her husband’s death yet nothing could dissuade her from the horrid ceremony. When remonstrated with on the subject, she said: “My husband’s death was not occasioned by old age, and be had not attained eternal bliss; I have lived until now, in order to procure this blessing from him. Give me no advice; I am determined to become a suttee; my future happiness depends upon my becoming one.” For four days previous to her burn ing herself on the funeral pile, she refused every kind of sustenance.

Canibalism in Fiji. It was only people who had been killed that were considered good for food. Those who died a natural death were never eaten—invariably buried But it certainly is a wonder that the isles were not altogether depopulated, owing to the number who were killed. Thus, in Namena, in the year 1851, fifty bodies were cooked for one feast. And when the men of Bau were at war with Verata they carried off 260 bodies, seventeen of which were piled on a conoe and sent toßewa, where they were received with wild joy, dragged about the town, and -objected to every species of indignity ere they finally reached the ovens.

Then, too, Just think of the number of lives sacrificed in a country where infantcide.was a recognized institution, and where widows were strangled as a matter of Course! Why, on one occasion when there had been a horrible massacre of Namena people at Viwa, and upward of one hundred people had been murdered, and their bodies carried as bokola to the ovens at Bau’ nojess than eig ty women were strangled to do honor to the dead, and corpses lay in every direction of the mission station It is just thirty years since the Rev. John Watsford, writing from here, described how twenty-eight-- victims had been seized in one day while fishing. They were brought here alive, and only stunned when put into the ovens. Some of the miserable creatures attempted to escape .from the scorching bed of red ho f stones, but only to be driven back and buried in that living tomb, whence they were taken a few hours later to feast their barbarous captors. He adds that more human beings were eaten .on this little isle of Bau than any where else in Fiji. It is very bard', indeed, to realize that the peaceful village on which lam now looking has really been the scene of such horrors as these, and that many of the gentle, kindly people around me have actually taken part in them.]—At home in

A MONGOLIAN FUNERAL.

Solemn and Brayerful Ceremonies ai the Burial of * Chinaman. The emaciated remains of Cha Attach, a middle-aged Cmnaman, lay in a simple pin# coffin yesterday at his home in Division street, and the friends of the dead man had assembled to pay the last tokens of respect to his memory and perform the mortuary rites of the Buddhist creed. Full twenty-five bareheaded and tearful Mongols sat in the room in strangely embroidered “sues.” black pantaloons and shoes of* marvellous design. At the foot of the coffin a roasted pig savored the air, and all around it were strewn fragments of gold and silver paper that reflected the flames o f a score of brightly burning wax candles. A few “joss” sticks protruded from among the flimsy emblems of temporal riches, and bright strips of colored silk were pendant from the walls. In the midst of all this lowly splendor lay the dead Mongol, with ghastly, upturned face and folded arms. A few minutes of complete silence passed, and three Chinamen entered the room. They were assuming the duties belonging to the Buddhist priests, and each wore a soft black felt hat bound with a strip of white crape. The central one of the three began to chant a prayer in the gutteral Cantonese dialect, andat every pause he made his two assistants chanted a response. Sometimes they reverently kneeled, but they stood during most of the ceremony, always facing the corpse. It was a strange sight, this Buddhist ritual in the heart of a Christian city, but never for a moment did the prayerful voices flag, and never for a moment did the mourners remove their eyes from the face Of their departed comrade. There was, perhaps, one of the assemblage who did cast greedy eyes at the roast pig, but it is said he was converted to Christianity two years ago.

Arter the prayers to Joss had been duly rendered, and the prayer-sticks were lighted, the coffin was borne out of the house and deposited in a hearse. The deceased was a member of the Loon Ye Tong, or United Chinese Brethren, and the hearse was driven to the rooms of the society at 18 Mott street. Here a German brass band was drawn up on the sidewalk, and as the little cortege filed into the Chinese colony the mus ciahs played the dead march from “Saul.” Then the members of the Loon Ye Tong walked two and two from the clubrooms and formed in procession behind the hearse. Each one was dressed in native costume and wore a white silk apron, upon whicn, in black velvet, was worked a square and compass—the symbol of the order. The first section of the mourners carried a red serge flag, trimmed with white, which bore in white Chinese characters the name, age, time of birth and time of death of Cha Afuch. Behind there came two black banners, on which were embossee white hieroglyphics, which freely translated were “Rest in Peace” and “We Mourn Our Loss.” The body was preceded by a line of policemen and the noisy brass band. When the march began there were fully a thousand persons attracted to the scene, and it was with difficulty that the procession could make any progress through the crowd. The remains were taken to the Grand street ferry and here the police escort departed. When the funeral line was formed in Williamsburg a number of rowdies created a disgraceful clamor, but some sensible citizens diove them them away, and the hearse and its followers reached the Evergreens cemetery without further incident. The coffin was then lowered into the grave, a handful of earth was thrown on the cover by each mourner, the mound was quickly raised and sodded, the company dispersed, and, with the three flags floating over him and about twenty prayer sticks at his head, Cha Afuch awaits the coming of Buddha and the resurrection —New York Herald.

How a Turk Lost His Wives.

A Constantinople letter says: since the days of the reforming Selim this country has seen many an awkward change, but the following incident will best illustrate the d*-pth to which the reforming spirit has penetrated into the masses of the quaint people. About three years ago .. certain Maurad Eftendi. who was in a tolerably good position at Angora, in Asia Minor, left his native country and came to Constantinople with a view of bettering his worldly prospects. On arriving here he obtained a position in the kadabet (foreign office), where Said sent him on a special mission to the Turkish Embassy in Lond n. In this enterprise whether the object of the present sketch was successful or not is a matter of no concern. What is of more inteiestis the event wh'ch brings him out in relief in Constantinople society as a bold man. About two months ago Mourad Effendi returnid here, and sent word to the household of his harem at Angora to come and join him’ as he meant to take up a fixed residence in the capital. The full complement of his wives, lost no time in complying with the behest of t ieir lord and master. Our gay Lothario was proud of his indigenous stock, and, in the desi e to raise and keep them upon the pedestal of hiA new greatness ere he would consent to present them to his friends, he took them for a drive to one of the many modiste’s establishments, and then and there bedecked them with the finery of which his in England had made him an expert. But .as soon as he relumed home his difficulties commenced, fcjr he was overwhelmed with a chorus of reprobation oy his wives. No. I Said to tie unfortunate Mourad: “My ever dearest master,

I wedded thee,trusting 'that thy faith in the true, prophet would be .as last--1 ing as my love for thee was ardent: but, that you wish to deck me Out th garments that have been denied by the touch of the ‘unbeliever,’ I must fain abandon thee. I would not decline retaining them as curiosities, which I thought was your objeCt, but I will never wear them.* 1 No. 2 lady accused her lord of not having said his prayers the previous day, and reminded him that it was incubent upon a “true to say his prayers five times a day, Ind he had been non-observant of the prophfr et’s mandate. She, too, must leave him., No. 3 lady told her husbanc that contamination had reached her soul and body. The Frenghis were a peculiar people, and if, in their eccentricities, they had managed to get hold of him as one of them, she “would none of” him. Husband she could abandon, but’ the faith never! Lady No. 4 was the special favorite, and she cursed those who had caused her husband’s departure from the faith of his ancestors. He had formerly been used to look upou the yashmak (veil) as the garment of purity; the shalver (baggy trousers) as the emblem of innocence, and he had been used to say that the ship-ships (yellow slippers) were after the pattern of those worn by Eve, their primogenitor. Now, alas, he spoke of all these things with disdain. She

could do nothing in trespass of the law, and therefore she also must divorce the reforming Mourad, but her prayers would be constant that the holy prophet would rescue him frem the path of perdition, and that he might see the intense perfidy of the low-bodied dresses, the Gainsborough hats, and the high heeled boots of the Frenghi ladies, who, unlike the Moslem fair ones, required all the aid of the dressmaker’s art to make them attractive. This example was followed by the whole of Mourad’s Effendi’s wives, and he consequently unexpectedly finds himself a bachelor once again. He can easily find consolation in the slave market if he so desire, for he can there purchase for a few thousand piastres a Georgian or Circassian nymph to console him for the loss.

Newport’s Wonderful Flowers.

Where else do roses grow so near the sea that the salt spray falls upon them, and grow so wondrously as in the Bancroft rose garden? If “love begets love,” it is not at all strange that the great historian calls his own the finest rose garden in the land. He will point out and call by name for you a hundred varieties growing in one bed. An interesting fact is that, beside this famous garden and almost through it, with no fence guarding it, runs a public path, open to all the world; yet never a flower has been molested, never a bit of the fruit, which grows there also, has been touched. You may surprise Mr. Bancroft himself among his treasures almost any hour on a June day; but he keeps no guard, and trusts us all implicitly, and, if he sees a wisttul look come into your eyes as they wander over his roses, he is very likely to gather an arftful, and bring them to the path and give them to you, stranger though you are. To two things Newport owes its floral beauties—to the humidity of the atmosphere, and to the care of its florists and gaideners. The Eastern workman lavishes no more time and skill on the textile fabric, which grows under his hands, than did the gardener here, iast year, who faithfully copied an Oriental carpet and spread it upon a Newport lawn. It was a mavel—this great floral “prayer rug,” with its artistic, subdued, yet rich offering of the East. Its hues harmonized to a perfection that was almost inert dible when one reflected that it was made up of thousands of growing plants; and all sumpaer long it was carefully kept in this state of perfection. Looking down from the height of an upper window, the deception was complete, so closely did it imitate a Turkish carpet. Last summer on another lawn—belonging to a Bostonian—there grew a quotation from Shakespeare, every letter as perfectly outlined as the best draughtsman might do it with pencil or brush. The rarest of plants were employed, and the effect was exceedingly beautiful. Neither of these lawn decorations, though without doubt the finest of the kind ever attempted in America, were as surprising or as effective as a similar embroidery in flowers which I once saw in France. This was in the form of a lady’s necklace, of course greatly exaggerated in size, so that i% covered a large piece of lawn. A slender chain ofjgolden blossoms lay upon the grass, fastened with a clasp of amethyst. From this chain oepended pendants, each representing some precious stone set round with other stones, or in a filigree of yellow leaves. It was copied from a veritable necklace in a famous collection of jewels. All the plants used in this feature of landscape gardening are low-growing, so that the surface is compact and smooth, and lift little raised above the closely cut grsss. The words “Ocean House” have in <his manner lain upon the terrace before the hotel of that name at Newport for two summers. Soon at Newport we shall see a sight the like of which I doubt ever has been seen in our country—an acre or more of rare Holland tulips in blossom; such a wealth of blazing glowing color, a*f one must look upon to appreciate and realize. Nearly 400,000 bulbs, imported from been set out close togetheron this piece of land, lying in the middle of the tract recently purchased by the Boston syndicate. This is an experiment. If successful, andthe bulbs can be raised in Newport, it will no longer be necessary to bring them from Holland, which country now supplies the world.—Boston Herald. ♦,

Another Chicage Tribune Novel.

f —— "Must I go, sweetheart?” "Yes,’‘Replied Lillian MaGuire, placing her shapely white handin his, and looking into his face with a tender earnestness that showed the true woman! ness of her nature; “it is bettw, far better for both of us that we should part forever,” but as she spoke the hot tears of pain welled up into her beautiful brown eyes—those eyes that had witched with their bright glances and dreamy tenderness so man men—and with a little sob of pain Lillian’s head was bowed upon George W. Simpson’s in an ecstacy of grief. ‘ Couldn’t you put a ten-ye«g limit on your bill, darling?” asked the young man, bending gently over the little head that was pillowed so trustingly just under his left ear; “I certainly ought to have as good a chance as a Chinaman.” A low moan of pain and a convulsive shake of the little head was the only response. But George was not to be denied so easily. "Can I not have one hope?” he said, "one little, nickel-plated, 10cent hope?” Lillian lifted her head and looked at him steadily. "Perhaps,” she said, in cold, Saffian’s Bay tones, "you would drop if a house fell on you. but I begin to doubt it. Knaw then, since you will have it, that under no circumstances can I ever accept your proffered love, for I am a packer’s daughter, and packers’ daughters come high”—this with a haughty expression that lower-case type can not convey. George W. Simpson saw at once that this proud beauty had been making a plaything of his love./The revelation was a terrible one, but he bore it bravely. ' . "Very well,” he said, in husky, haven’t- had- a- drink- in three-hours tones. "You have stamped with the iron heel of scorn upon the tender violet of my budding love, but some day, when your children—little winsome brats with sunny smiles and an assortment of colic that will keep you three nights every week—are climbing upon your knee until you are in danger of becoming knee-sprung, you will per ans remember, with a tinge of sadness in the .recollection, how

you toyed with the love of a loyal, trusting, Cook-County heart, and threw forever over and happy life the black pall of a disappointed hope and crushed ambition. I have seen the roses of my love wither and waste away until they lie shriveled and blighted by the dusty roadside of life, and you can bet that I feel pretty tough about it. J have seen my beautiful and stately Ship of Hope, with its tall, shapely masts and towering wings of snowy canvas that sailed away so buoyantly and bravely over shimmering seas not months ago, come hack to me a shapeless wreck—the tapering spars that were so white and clean, now jagged and broken, and to them clinging the dark seaweeds, while of the sails that rivaled the clouds in fleecy puritv, there remain only blackened shreds that flop dismally in the moaning wind, whose voice seems to be the requiem and dirge of my dead and buried love. I have got the boss wreck, and don’t you forget it.” Lillian looked at him steadily for a moment. “Do you mean these words you have spoken,George?” she asked. “You can bet your life I do,” he answered in low passionate tones. “And do you really love me so dearly?” “Well, I should gasp,” was the reply,a pearly tear glistening in George’s oft eye. “Then,” said Lillian, twining her arms about his neck, “I will nos ton your knee next Tuesday evening as usual. Papa would never forgive me if I let a man who ean talk .like that go out of the family.”

Perpetual Motion.

“I want you to build a perpetual motion machine for me,” said a gentleman who entered the office of the City Mill Works the other day. A smile spread over the countenances of the men at the desks, and they told him that perpetual motion was an impossibility. He quickly gave thorn to understand that he hadnot called to get advice, but to have work done thathe had already planned. A description of the machine was taken, and an estimate made of the approximate cost, but the company declined to build it unless he would pay for the material and seventy five cents an hour for the time of the machinist while working it.’ He accepted the conditions, furnished security for the payment of the bill, and went into the machine room to give his instructions to the men who are making it. They laughed at him, and good naturedly referred to the thousands of failures that had followed similar attempts to get power out of nothing. “B**e here, young man,” said he, “I am older than you are, and I have spent twenty-three years in studying this subject, so it is/probable that I know as much abouffit as you do, and I am inclined to think I know more. You do the work, and I will show you a machine that will go.” The principle on which it works is that of falling balls striking levers, three of them descending all the time and raising one. It was tried a century ago. and has never been successful. The labor on it has already cost him *s72, and it will amount to SSOO before it is finished. Two of the twenty-inch castiron wheels in it each have i, 167 machine cut teeth, and two others each have 284, The inventor is a toll gate keeper named Hocket, who has a gate on the Williamsburg Pike at the G. R. and I. railroad crossing. He has a large offer for the righfcto use and sell the machine in the Uqjted States when he demonstrates by actual experiment that it will work.—Richmond Palladium. ' l -