from syringes made of bamboo, and engage in other frolics in imitation of the god; and at the Mohurrum, when they parade through the streets, disguised as Africans, savages, and tigers, with chains about their loins, springing from side to side, and it may be, with a piece of raw meat in their mouths,—the streets are a scene of great, though not very refined, merriment.
At night, these scenes of bustle, business, and amusement give place to others of a different character. The temples are lit up with rows of lamps, which cast a glittering light upon the image in its deep recess; and, if it be a feast-day, fireworks and music resound within the court. The story-teller, at the city-gate, with his audience seated on the earth around him, has gone; but on the verandah of one of the houses of the better sort, you will find the minstrel chaunting the praises of the gods, with a picture before him, a lamp or two to make it visible, and his virney, or guitar, in his hand, ne screams out in doleful notes the wondrous deeds of Rama, Hanuman, or Krishna, to the admiration of the bystanders. They do not, however, escape without criticism, as is shown by many stories told at their expense among
