Not far from the University, the home of modern science and culture, there rises a long black wall, from above which dense volumes of noisome smoke drift over the road, and many bright sparks float in the air. This is the Hindu burning ground, and the smoke and sparks arise from the funeral fires.
" The Trojan king and Tuscan chief command, To raise the piles along the winding strand ; Thence friends convey the dead to fun'ral fires, Black smould'ring smoke from the green wood expires, The light of Heaven is cloaked, and the new day retires." From a low and narrow door comes forth a procession of priests in saffron robes, carrying small bundles in their hands: behind them follow a crowd of men and women wailing and beating their breasts. They cross the railway which runs parallel to the beach, and repair to the sea, where, after various oblations and ceremonies are performed, the priests open the little bundles and cast their contents into the waters. They are the ashes of the dead. The mourners sit on the turf by the seashore, and refraining from vain tears they alleviate their grief by reciting after the priests verses culled from the Puranas. " Foolish ashes, who seeks per manence in the human state, unsolid like the stem of the plantain tree, transient like the foam of the sea. All that is low must finally perish ; all that is elevated must ultimately fall ; all compound bodies must end in dissolution ; and life is concluded with death. Unwilling do the manes of the deceased taste the tears and rheum shed by their kinsmen : then do not wail, but diligently perform the obsequies of the dead." Under the shadow of the University tower the Hindu diligently performs the obsequies of the dead as they were performed on the winding shore, when " the wood was heaped for funeral," and " apart Achilles stood." Bombay is the common meeting ground of many different creeds and nationalities. A short distance beyond the burning yard is a long upper-storied building, which a charitable Muhammadan gentleman has built to accom modate the pilgrims proceeding to Mecca ; and facing a sweep of the bay rises Wilson College, which bears the name of its founder, the great Scotch missionary, who made Bombay his home, and devoted a life of strenuous labour to her advancement. A man of most varied acquirements and excellent judgment, Dr. Wilson became a considerable force in the land, and Viceroys and Governors sought his advice on delicate problems of State. Endowed with an unusually attractive and winning character, he won the hearts of all classes, English, Parsee, Muhammadan, and Hindu. The land and its people interested him. He was versed in their ancient literature and philosophy ; he spoke and wrote some of their living languages, and without a tinge of sentimentalism he appreciated their many fine qualities. He freely criticized Hinduism, Muhammadanism, and Zoroastrianism ; but his plain speaking did not impair the affection with which he was regarded, for no man has a keener appreciation of chivalrous honesty than the Oriental.
Beyond the Wilson College the road begins to rise to Malabar Hill, and at intervals along the base of the beetling rocks are patches of trees and groves of lofty palms. On the top of the hill two roads meet ; one follows the crest, and the other leads to Malabar Point, " where the Governor," writes Lady Falkland, " has a residence consisting of several good-sized bungalows." Lady Falkland, who was one of the first to prove, by her bright book Chow Chow, that India is not hopelessly dull, was fond of staying at Malabar Point during the time her husband ruled the island. Mount stuart Elphinstone, when Governor, built a bungalow at Malabar Point, on the site of an old temple ; but a residence of some kind had existed before his day, for we read of Malabar Point being, in 1789, " the Governor's occasional retreat." Maria Graham, better known as Lady Caldecott, and the author of Little Arthur's History of England, has the following in her Journal of a Residence in India :— " August 5, 18o9.—After walking nearly two miles through gardens, or rather fields of vegetables, we came to a small bungalo, or garden-house, at the point of the hill, from which there is, I think, the finest view I ever saw. The whole island lay to the
north and east, beautifully green with the young rice, varied with hills and woods, and only separated from Salsette and the Mahratta shore by narrow arms of the sea, while the bay and harbour to the south, scattered with beautiful woody islands, reflected the grand monsoon clouds, which, as they rolled along, now hid and now discovered the majestic forms of the ghauts on the mainland. Within a few yards of the bungalo is a ruined temple ; from what remains, it must have been a fine specimen of Hindoo architecture ; almost every stone is curiously carved with groups of figures, animals, and other ornaments. Tradition says that the Portugueze, in their zeal for conversion, pointed cannon against this temple, and destroyed it with its gods ; its widely scattered remains seem to countenance the report. Close to the ruin there is a cleft in a rock, so narrow, that one would wonder how a child could get through it ; nevertheless there are multitudes of pilgrims who annually come to force themselves through, as a certain method of getting rid of their sins." Moore, in The Hindoo Pantheon, writes : " At the very extremity of a promontory on the island of Bombay, called Malabar Point, is a cleft rock; a fancied resemblance of the Yoni, to which numerous pilgrims and persons resort for the purpose of regeneration, by the efficacy of a passage through this sacred type. This Yoni, or hole, is of considerable eleva tion, situated among the rocks, of no easy access, and in the stormy season incessantly buffeted by the surf of the ocean." Moore goes on to relate that the famous Brahman Ragoba, the father of the last of the Peshwas, was, when he resided at Bombay, in the habit of passing through the cleft ; and that Shivaji, the daring founder of the Mahratta State, had been known to venture secretly on the island of Bombay, " at a time when discovery was ruin, to avail himself of the benefit of this efficacious transit." About half a mile from Malabar Point is the village of Walkeshwar, one of the most sacred spots in Western India. The name implies Lord of Sand, for legend states that the great god Rama—whose history is familiar to every village child—came to Malabar Point in the course of his travels, tired and thirsty, and found no water, so he shot an arrow into the sand on the seashore, and water immediately ap peared. Passing through narrow streets, lined with tall, quaint houses, painted all colours, the sacred pool is reached. It is situated in the centre of a vast square, entirely sur rounded by temples of all sizes and forms—temples shaped like a sugar-loaf, temples with domes, temples with pinnacles and turrets, whose niches are filled with small images. Under the trees are small shrines with pointed roofs ; and what Jeremiah the prophet saw and denounced we see around us everywhere : " And they set them up images and groves on every high hill, and under every green tree." Around the tank are tall white obelisk-shaped pillars, painted n parts red and green, and numerous little altars containing the Tulsi plant. Before the temples are placed—carved in black stone—the Sacred Bull, or Nandi. All proclaim the foul worship against which the Old Testament is one long protest, and whose symbols were the grove, the golden calf, and the brazen serpent. Long flights of steps lead down to the water's edge, which is some yards below the level of the road. Men and women in clothes of various colours press round the brink of the silent pool : some plunge into, or besprinkle themselves with the sacred liquid ; others kneeling on the steps remain in a state of blessed contempla tion ; all are praying with the utmost fervour. Around the tank on worn and ragged mattresses lie a multitude of im potent folk, of blind, halt, withered. A scene rises before us : " Sir, I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool ; but while I am coming, another steppeth down before me. Jesus said unto him, Rise, take up thy bed and walk ; and immediately the man was made whole, and took up his bed and walked." Read in the light of the East, the sacred volume recovers its native colour, and glows with the vigour of new life.