From the caves and jungles of Hindostan

IN BOMBAY.

his nice dinner! Only the strong bars of the cage saved the Jaina keeper from a vigorous protest by this veteran of the forest. A hyena, with a bleeding head and a half-torn ear, began by sitting in the trough filled with this "Spartan sauce" meaning a simple or unappetizing meal, and then, without any further ceremony, upset it, as if to show its utter contempt for the mess.

The wolves and the dogs raised such miserable howls that they attracted the attention of two inseparable friends: an old elephant with a wooden leg and a sore-eyed ox—the true Castor and Pollux inseparable twins from Greek mythology of this institution. In accordance with his noble nature, the elephant’s first thought was for his friend. He wound his trunk around the neck of the ox as a sign of protection, and both moaned dismally. Parrots, storks, pigeons, and flamingoes—the entire feathered community—reveled in their breakfast. Monkeys were the first to answer the keeper’s invitation and greatly enjoyed themselves.

Further on, we were shown a holy man who was feeding insects with his own blood. He lay with his eyes shut, the scorching rays of the sun striking full upon his naked body. He was literally covered with flies, mosquitoes, ants, and bugs.

"All these are our brothers," the keeper observed mildly, pointing to the hundreds of animals and insects. "How can you Europeans kill and even devour them?"

"What would you do," I asked, "if this snake were about to bite you? Is it possible you would not kill it if you had the time?"

"Not for the world. I would cautiously catch it, carry it to some deserted place outside the town, and set it free there."

"But suppose it bit you?"

"Then I would recite a mantram a sacred chant or prayer, and if that produced no result, I would be forced to consider it the finger of Fate and quietly leave this body for another."

These were the words of a man who was educated to a certain extent and very well-read. When we pointed out that no gift of Nature is without purpose and that human teeth are suited for eating everything, he answered by quoting entire chapters of Darwin’s Theory of Natural Selection and Origin of Species.

"It is not true," he argued, "that the first men were born with canine teeth. It was only over time, with the degradation of humanity—only when the appetite for meat began to develop—that the jaws changed their original shape under the influence of new necessities."

I could not help asking myself, "Where is science going to poke its nose?" original: "Où la science va-t’elle se fourrer?"

That same evening, in Elphinstone’s Theatre, a special performance was given in honor of "the American Mission," as we are called here. Native actors performed the ancient fairy drama Sîtâ-Râma in Gujarati, which was adapted from the Râmâyana, the celebrated epic by Valmiki. This drama consists of fourteen acts and endless stage pictures, in addition to transformation scenes. As usual, all the female parts were played by young boys, and the actors, according to historical and national customs, were barefoot and half-naked. Still, the richness of the costumes, the stage decorations, and the transformations were truly wonderful. For instance, even on the stages of large metropolitan theatres, it would have been difficult to give a better representation of the army of Râma’s allies, who are simply troops of monkeys under the leadership of Hanuman—the soldier, statesman, dramatist, poet, and god who is so celebrated in history (that of India, please original: s.v.p. (s’il vous plaît)). The oldest and best of all Sanskrit dramas, Hanuman-Nátak, is attributed to this talented ancestor of ours.