nation of it in Hindu mythology, which the
Brahmin ought to have known, and very probably did know, but was ashamed
to tell. But it matters little, for we may be well assured that the
explanation was invented to sanctify the festival long after the
festival itself came into vogue, as has been the case with some of our
most Christian holidays.

The Holi comes round about the time of the vernal equinox, when victory
declares for day and warmth in its long struggle with night and cold.
Then Nature rises and shakes herself as Samson rose and shook himself
and snapped the seven new cords that bound him, as tow is snapped when
it smells the fire. Then "the wanton lapwing gets himself another
crest," and then also the young Hindu's fancy lightly turns to thoughts
of love; and so it came about quite naturally that, looking around,
among his plentiful gods, for a deity who might fitly be invited to
preside over his lusty rejoicings at this season, he pitched upon
Krishna.

For Krishna, when he was upon this earth, was an amorous youth, and his
goings on with certain milkmaids were such as would shock Mrs. Grundy at
the present day even in India, supposing he had been only a man. But he
was a god, therefore his doing a thing made it right, and, where he
presides, his worshippers may do as he did. Consequently, man, woman and
child of every caste and grade give themselves licence, during these
days of the Holi, to act and speak in a manner that would be scandalous
at any other time of the year.

Hindus of the better sort are beginning to be outwardly, and some of
them, I hope, inwardly, rather ashamed of this festival, and it is time
they were. Yet there is always something cheering in the sight of
untutored mirth and exuberant animal joy breaking out and triumphing
over the sadness of life and the monotony of lowly toil; and I confess
that I find a pleasing side to this festival of the Holi. I like it best
as I have seen it in a fishing village on the west coast of India.

At first sight you would not suspect the black and brawny Koli of much
gaiety, but there is deep down in him a spring of mirth and humour
which, "when wine and free companions kindle him," can break out into
the most boisterous hilarity and jocundity and even buffoonery, throwing
aside all trammels of convention and decorum. His women folk, too,
though they do not go out of their proper place in the social system,
assert themselves vigorously within it, and