which was older than the rest when planted, began to bear
fruit in 1833, and poor old Barjor Singh and his wife were in great
distress that they dared not taste of the fruit whose flavour was so
much prized by their children. They began to think that they had
neglected a serious duty, and might, in consequence, be taken off
before another season could come round. They therefore sold all their
silver and gold ornaments, and borrowed all they could; and before
the next season the grove was married with all due pomp and ceremony,
to the great delight of the old pair, who tasted of the fruit in June
1834.

The larger the number of the Brahmans that are fed on the occasion of
the marriage, the greater the glory of the proprietor of the grove;
and when I asked old Barjor Singh, during my visit to his grove, how
many he had feasted, he said, with a heavy sigh, that he had been
able to feast only one hundred and fifty. He showed me the mango-tree
which had acted the part of the bridegroom on the occasion, but the
bride had disappeared from his side. 'And where is the bride, the
tamarind?' 'The only tamarind I had in the grove died', said the old
man, 'before we could bring about the wedding; and I was obliged to
get a jasmine for a wife for my mango. I planted it here, so that we
might, as required, cover both bride and bridegroom under one canopy
during the ceremonies; but, after the marriage was over, the gardener
neglected her, and she pined away and died.'

'And what made you prefer the jasmine to all other trees after the
tamarind?'

'Because it is the most celebrated of all trees, save the rose.'

'And why not have chosen the rose for a wife?'

'Because no one ever heard of marriage between the rose and the
mango; while they [_sic_] take place every day between the mango and
the _chambeli_ (jasmine).'[3]

After returning from the groves, I had a visit after breakfast from a
learned Muhammadan, now guardian to the young Raja of Uchahara,[4]
who resides part of his time at Jubbulpore. I mentioned my visit to
the groves and the curious notion of the Hindoos regarding the
necessity of marrying them; and he told me that, among Hindoos, the
man who went to the expense of making a tank dared not drink of its
waters till he had married his tank to some banana-tree, planted on
the bank for the purpose.[5]

'But what', said he with a smile, 'could you expect from men who
believe that Indra is the god who rules the heavens