ial system of this strange
land.

But, while the Bhundaree must refuse all intoxicating drinks himself, it
is his duty to exercise a large tolerance towards those who are not so
hindered. He is, in fact, a partner in the business of Babajee, Licensed
Vendor of Fresh Toddy, towards whose spacious, open-fronted shop,
thatched with "jaolees," he now carries his gourds. There the contents
will stand, in dirty vessels and a warm place, maturing their
exhilarating qualities until the evening, when the Tam o' Shanters and
Souter Johnnies of the village begin to assemble and squat in a ring in
the open space in front. They may be Kolees, or fishermen, and Agrees,
who make salt, and aboriginal Katkurrees from the jungle, with their
bows and arrows, most bibulous of all, but among them all there will be
no Bhundaree. Babajee sits apart, presiding and serving, beside a dirty
table, on which are many bottles and dirty tumblers of patterns which
were on our tables thirty years ago. The assembly begins solemnly,
discussing social problems and bartering village gossip, for the Hindu
is by nature staid. After a while, at the second bottle perhaps,
cheerfulness will supervene, then mirth and garrulity, ending, as the
night closes round, with wordy contention and a general brawl. But
nothing serious will happen, for toddy, though decidedly heady, is at
the worst a thin potation. A strong and very pure spirit is distilled
from it, which has its devotees, but the rustic, as a rule, prefers
quantity to quality. We are often told that the British Government
taught the people of India to drink, but the scene that I have tried to
describe is indigenous conviviality, much older than any European
connection with the country.

Is it any wonder that the coconut has become an emblem of fertility and
prosperity and all good luck? When a new house is building you will see
a high pole over the doorway, bearing coconuts at the top, with an
umbrella spread over them. Do not ask the owner the meaning of the sign,
for he does not know. He does not think about such matters, but he feels
about them and he knows that that is the right thing to do. Besides, he
might ask you why you nail a horseshoe over your door. The difference
between us and him is that we do such things in jest, no longer
believing in them. They are the husks of a dead faith with us. But the
Hindu's faith is very living still. So, when he breaks a coconut at the
launching of a pattimar,