, when the officer scented a
bundle of cigars, which he picked up and archly said, "Sergeant, what
luxurious dogs these pelicans must be! I have already seen beef, mutton,
and pork bones, and here I find a bundle of cigars. I should not be
surprised if I stumbled upon a bottle of brandy next." This the artful
sergeant did not know how to account for; but the thing was obvious
enough: the whole had been thrown over for the prisoners, by some of
their friends. The sergeant was severely admonished for his neglect of
duty, and a long conversation then took place between me and the
orderly-officer, on the subject of these wonderful birds. They grow so
tame that they will feed out of your hand. At night, they roost on the
tops of the barracks, and on trees in their vicinity. In the morning
early, they pay their respects to the river-side in search of any dead
bodies that may be washed ashore; and it is a most appalling sight to
see those ravenous creatures, with hundreds of enormous vultures,
tearing human bodies to pieces. If you live on the banks of the Ganges,
it is no uncommon sight to see crows, vultures, and hawks, riding down
the river on dead bodies, feeding on them as they sail along. This is
easily accounted for. Hindoos, in general, are committed to the pile
after death, and burned to ashes; but the poor people, who cannot
perform this last office to their departed relatives, burn the hair off
the body, which is then committed to the Holy Gunga, as they call the
Ganges. The bodies, when exposed to the sun, swell to an enormous and
frightful size.

One day, I was walking on the banks of the Ganges, when I saw a group of
people sitting together, and mumbling something to themselves. Near them
I saw a corpse, wrapped in a white sheet, with its feet covered with
water. A few moments after, a young man, I should think about twenty
years of age, shouldered the corpse, and, walking slowly to an elevated
bank, he hurled it into the river, in the same manner you would a log of
wood. He then plunged in after the body, and deprived it of the
winding-sheet, leaving the corpse to float down the tide in a state of
nudity. When the youth reached the shore, I asked him who the young
person was that he had thrown into the river. He replied, with a kind of
grin, "My wife." I said, "You don't seem to be very sorry about her." He
said, "No; it was God's pleasure." I asked him how old she was, and he
said, "Thirteen years old." I then