ften in sight of snowy Kinchinjinga (28,156 feet), behind Darjeeling,
and when the Soobah, being sick, afterwards sent messengers with gifts
to induce him to return, he wrote:--"I hope to ascend those stupendous
mountains, which are so high as to be seen at a distance of 200 or 250
miles. One of these distant mountains, which is seen at Mahipal, is
concealed from view by the tops of a nearer range of hills, when you
approach within sixty miles of them. The distant range forms an angle
of about ten degrees with the horizon." But the time did not come for
a mission to that region till the sanitarium of Darjeeling became the
centre of another British district opened up by railway from Calcutta,
and now the aboriginal Lepchas are coming in large numbers into the
church. Subsequent communications from the Soobah informed them of the
Garos of Assam.

On his last visit to Calcutta, in 1799, "to get types cast for printing
the Bible," Carey witnessed that sight of widow-burning which was to
continue to disgrace alike the Hindoos and the Company's Government
until his incessant appeals in India and in England led to its
prevention in 1829. In a letter to Dr. Ryland he thus describes the
horrid rite:--

"MUDNABATI, 1st April 1799.--As I was returning from Calcutta I saw the
Sahamaranam, or, a woman burning herself with the corpse of her
husband, for the first time in my life. We were near the village of
Noya Serai, or, as Rennell calls it in his chart of the Hoogli river,
Niaverai. Being evening, we got out of the boat to walk, when we saw a
number of people assembled on the river-side. I asked them what they
were met for, and they told me to burn the body of a dead man. I
inquired if his wife would die with him; they answered Yes, and pointed
to the woman. She was standing by the pile, which was made of large
billets of wood, about two and a half feet high, four feet long, and
two wide, on the top of which lay the dead body of her husband. Her
nearest relation stood by her, and near her was a small basket of
sweetmeats called Thioy. I asked them if this was the woman's choice,
or if she were brought to it by any improper influence? They answered
that it was perfectly voluntary. I talked till reasoning was of no
use, and then began to exclaim with all my might against what they were
doing, telling them that it was a shocking murder. They told me it was
a great act of holiness, and added in a very surly manner, that