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the most vulgar, by the nobleness of this unhappy mother. Ihrahim, though he felt that she had willingly sacrificed splendor and honour to save her son, also felt that she had sacrificed him; and had proved her affection as a wife, inferior to her fondness as a parent; and his consternation was not unmingled with resentment. But while he paused, the kindred of his revengeful Bomanjee completed the measures thry had prepared for his misery. Instigated by their eloquence and their bribes, the most zealous brachmins had placed themselves in readiness to seize their victim. Abandoned to their ferocious power by all the creeds and all the customs of the Hindoos, the miserable outcast was brought back to suffer the ordeal by which their superstition pretends to discover those who are really pariahs, or outcasts from the gods. Conscious of his own indiscreet duplicity, fearful of the disgrace which vehement interference might draw on his own head, and unnerved by the habitual indolence of a selfish life, Ibrahim satisfied himself with silent regret while the brachmins conveyed their victim to Carli, intending to exhibit her fate as a terrible evidence of their power, and an atoning sacrifice to their goddess Kali.* Ibrahim heard Kali named with a frightful and remorseful consciousness of the death designed for Chandela and her son. The languor of his temperament, which, like his personal beauty, possessed more elasticity than strength, gave way to human passions; and he embarked secretly in his boat at midnight to overtake the brachmins in their journey to their temple. He reached it safely a few hours after their arrival, and pitched his tent at the foot of its tremendous seat. With no attendants he ascended the piles of rock sheltered by wild groves of mango trees on the road to Carli. All was dark when he reached the mouth of its giant cave, and hid himself among the arched niches which form its portico. The spectacle within would have awed a stronger spirit. Hewn in the solid rock, three aisles formed by twenty-one enormous pillars supported a coved roof resting on ribs of teak wood undecayed by six hundred years. A few torches gleaming in the corridors, showed him the gloomy extent of this mountain temple, in which no image of any deity interrupted its magnificent simplicity. The shadow of a single priest emerging from his cell behind the pillars, seemed to represent the littleness of man in the chambers of his Creator: but İbrahim thought only of his purpose, and questioned the stranger in a faltering voice concerning Chandela and her son. The priest replied, “We are Fines, and this cavern is dedicated to a purer and more ancient religion than the brachmins. We believe our God all wise, all seeing, all-productive, and all-happy—without name, without shape, without tribe, love, or weakness. The man who can attain these perfections will soon behold God, is already in his presence, and will be united to him. Thy Chandela would have nothing to fear from us.
* This treinendous deity (the wife of Seeva) receives many victims still between the shores of Calcutta and the Isle of Sangor, where her ruined temple stands. Hler votaries are deemed happy if seized by the sharks which wait round it.
We believe the world eternal, therefore we hold it sinful to attempt destruction; we believe all things governed by necessity, therefore we blame nothing except adultery and theft, which never can be needful. Go in peace. He offered Ibraham food, but of a very simple kind, for their creed excludes animal-meats, milk, and honey: informing him that the Hindoo priests had probably named the cave of Carli to mislead his search, while they performed their rites on the shore. Dreading to find them completed, Ibrahim descended into a deep and dismal valley, opening by a narrow pass into the sea, which encompassed a small island near its mouth, as low and dark as the abhorred isle of Sangor, famous for human sacrifices. Two brachmins answered his inquiries by intelligence that they had already disposed of Chandela according to her doom; but the next hour would decide whether her son should belong to them, or to the miserable cast of his mother. Breathless and aghast with fear of this decision, Ibrahim stood among the crowd, while the votaries of Hindoo superstition approached in garlands of flowers and scarlet robes, bringing in a magnificent litter the unfortunate boy designed for an offering to Kali. Beautiful and rosy in the sleep procured by opium, they placed him in the centre of the road, strewing Cusa-grass, oil, and milk, upon his garments. Citarts and trumpets mingled with the heavy sound of a triumphal car containing the idol Kali, represented by a gorgeous mass of ebony studded with rubies, drawn by an elephant of rare beauty. Certain that the infant's death would be decided if the wheels of this vehicle pursued their way, Ibrahim saw only one desperate expedient in his power to save it. He had seen this elephant in Ceylon when driven by its hunters into the trap* prepared for it, and had given it liberty by drawing out the stakes which prevented its escape. Trusting to the grateful sagacity of this noble animal, he threw himself with his face upwards before the sleeping boy in the road of the idol's chariot, an action which the brachmins saw without displeasure or surprise, as believers expect honour on earth and immortality in heaven from its touch. Not a breath was heard among the spectators, and the music sunk into the softest sound of the Autes used to charm the rock-serpent and cobra-capella, lest it should disturb the sleeper: but when the wheels had rolled within a foot pace, the elephant suddenly paused, fixed his mild eyes on his former benefactor, and raising the nearest wheel with his trunk, passed him and his slumbering boy in safety. A long and deep cry escaped the crowd, the lamps were suddenly extinguished, and Ibrahim felt himself raised from the earth, muffled in his shawl, and
* A modern traveller says, the elephant-craal, or trap, resembles a funnel, several hundred feet in length, and divided into three chambers, the last and small. est of which is guarded by strong posts or stakes driven into the ground, and men holding bundles of lighted straw. Two tame elephants are usually employed to lead the captive out, oppressing him with all their weight, and sometimes beating him with their tronks, while his groans and resistance express his indignation.
conveyed away in a kind of litter. He began to fear that his rashness had only changed the child's fate and his own into a more lingering misery, as the brachmins profess to believe that those over whom their divinity passes without a touch, are reprobated for ever. Many hours and many changes in his conveyance passed before the veil was taken from his eyes. They beheld a stupendous chamber resting on columns of rock illuminated by a thousand lamps. The flat roof, the turbaned capitals of the pillars, and the threeformed god, whose face sparkled with jewels amongst a crowd of inferior images, informed him that he stood in the cavern-temple of Elephanta: and the linen scarfs and zenaars* worn by those who surrounded him, announced the highest order of brachmin priests. One of superior stature and aspect held the hand of a woman covered with a silver veil, and addressed Ibrahim in these words:
• No part of nature displays its creative power to every eye, nor do we expose the vital principle of our religion to the vulgar. We reserve it for those who merit our care, and are capable of receiving its fruits. Thyself and this woman Chandela are among the chosen number:—she was once a portion of the vilest class, but thy bounty has made her worthy to convert thee, as the clay that has become fragrant by dwelling near the rose, may form a vase to preserve it. . Why should a being capable of such glorious self-sacrifice, bow to the deity of one element, when he might behold the author and governor of all?—He who is moisture in the water, light in the sun and moon, breath in the winds, and the invisible soul of all men! such is the divinity we worship—such the principle of a religion which the perverse ignorance of the multitude compels us to dress in awful and fantastic mysteries.-Receive this woman as thy wife, and her son shall be as thine own. We devote them to our God in winning thee from thy darkness, and our offerings to his altar are generous and faithful hearts.'
ART. VIII.-Some account of the late John Sackeouse, the Esqui
maux. [From Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine.] JOHN SACKEOUSE was born in 1797, on the west coast of
Greenland, in latitude about 70° north. In 1816, when the whale ships of the season were about to return home, he contrived to get on board the Thomas and Ann, captain Newton, of the port of Leith. Having made friends of all the sailors, he found do difficulty in concealing himself, and in stowing away his canoe: when the ship was well clear of the land, he made himself known to the captain, who, supposing that he had been carried away by accident, very kindly offered to return and put him on shore. But
• The zenaar, or brahminical tbread, is composed of three cotton threads, each forty-eight yards long, twisted together, folded, and thrown over, the left shoulder.
John entreated that this might not be done, declaring that he wisho ed to go to England with the ship, and to abandon his own country. He was accordingly permitted to remain. During the voyage he learned a little English, and made himself a tolerably expert seaman. At Leith, during the winter of 1816-17, he frequently exhibited in his canoe in the docks, and excited, in this neighbour. hood, a good deal of notice by his extraordinary dexterity.
He went to Davis' Straits again in the Thomas and Ann, in 1817, upon which occasion, captain Newton was strictly enjoined by his owners, Messrs. P. Wood, Weddell, & Co. of Leith, to treat the Esquimaux with the greatest kindness; to give him an opportunity of rejoining his friends; and not, on any account, to bring him away from his own country again, unless at his own particular request.
It is due to these gentlemen, as well as to captain Newton and his son, to state, that, from the earliest period of John's acquaintance with them, till his last moments, he was treated by them with a kindness and a liberality, which do them the more honour, from being bestowed at a time when he was unknown, and had no claims to their notice but his being far from home, and without friends; claims which, however, to such generous minds, are the most powerful of all.
On reaching Greenland, in the season of 1817, John found that his only remaining relation, his sister, had died in his absence. Upon receiving this afflicting news, he said that he would revisit his country no more. What his objects were in making this resolution, it is difficult to say. Probably he did not distinctly know himself; though, perhaps, having acquired a taste for enjoyments which he knew were not to be found at home, and having no ties. of kindred to bind him to the place of his birth, he would easily resolve, for a time at least, to follow the new line of life which accident had thrown in his way.
About the beginning of 1818, Mr. Nasmyth, the eminent artist of this city, accidentally met John Sackehouse in the streets of Leith, and having some years before been engaged to execute a set of drawings of the Esquimaux costume, he was naturally at. tracted by his appearance, although his dress was a good deal modified by his European hahits. Mr. Nasmyth brought him up to Edinburgh, and finding that he had not only a taste for drawing, but considerable readiness of execution, very kindly offered to give him instructions. It soon occurred to Mr. Nasmyth, that the Esquimaux might be useful to the expedition then about to sail under captain Ross, and this idea being communicated to sir James Hall, president of the Royal Society of Edinburgh; and John's merits being found, upon examination, to promise very well, a letter was written to Mr. Barrow, secretary of the admiralty, who instantly desired that the Esquimaux, if he were willing to join the expedition, should be sent to town. Very liberal offers from the admiralty board, accompanied this invitation, and he at once
agreed to go; appearing, however, to care very little about the proffered compensation, and only bargaining very explicitly, that he was not to be left in his own country,
We must look to captain Ross's account of the voyage for the details of John's proceedings. It may suffice here to say, that he behaved not only with great address, but with much courage and presence of mind, on some trying occasions; and, throughout, gave entire satisfaction to the officers employed on that service.
On the return of the expedition, the Esquimaux, became an object of great interest in London, and was so much noticed, that there was reason to apprehend either that the poor fellow's head would be turned, or that he might get into company, which would give him dissipated habits, and render him unfit for further service on the next expedition. Soon tiring of London, however, he was sent, at his own request, to Edinburgh, and placed under the charge of some of his old friends.
The admiralty board being fully sensible of the importance which it might prove to the expedition to have a good interpreter, gave directions for John's being educated in as liberal a manner as possible. He concurred in these views, and engaged in a number of pursuits with an ardour and a steadiness truly astonishing. His friend, Mr. Nasmyth, resumed his drawing lessons, in a more methodical manner, however, than at first; and was of still greater service to him by teaching him English, and by introducing him to his family, all of whom took the warmest interest in his improvement.--As John wished to learn writing, Mr. Steven, of this town, was engaged to teach him; and Mr. Cameron, a learned student of divinity, who was desirous of acquiring the Esquimaux language, undertook to give him regular lessons in English. He was fond of modelling and of carving canoes; and he took much pleasure in walking about and paying visits. He had great delight also in society: and being himself very entertaining, his circle of acquaintance soon extended itself, so that his evenings passed cheerfully, and profitably.
But in the midst of all this, he was seized with an inflammatory complaint, from which, in a few days, he in a great measure recovered, but relapsed, and died on Sunday evening, the 14th of February. He was attended with the utmost assiduity by Mr. George Bell, and several other eminent medical gentleman. He had many friends too, who attended him during his illness, with the most anxious care.
John Sackeouse was about five feet eight inches high, broad in the chest, and well set, with a very wide face, and a great quantity of coarse black straight hair. The expression of his
countenance, however, was remarkably pleasing and good-humoured, and not in the least degree savage. There was at all times great simplicity and absence of pretension in his manners. His modesty was great: when asked his opinion of the elephant he had seen in London, he said, with great naivete, and with a look of deep humility, ‘Ele