darting away to a distance. Yet the chase is continued, and they trample down, in their path, flowers which might have afforded them real and lasting gratification —and, at length, they pounce upon the glittering prize. And what remaineth? Breathless, with eager eyes, and outstretched arms, they gather round to gaze upon their captive-and lo! in place of the gorgeous thing which, erewhile, danced, joyous, in the sunbeam, there appears but the crushed, and disgusting remains of a mangled insect-they shudder-and turn

away.

do

Let the man who hath pursued independence in the shape of riches; who hath "risen early and toiled late, and taken no rest," who hath passed the spring of youth in hope, and borne "the burden and heat of the day" through the summer of manhood-let him, if the purpose of his soul hath been effected, and his coffers be filled, even to repletion-let him boast, and glorify, and plume himself upon his possessions in the eyes of his fellow men. He may this; and more, he may call around him the ministers of pleasure, the luxuries of life, the product of every climate, and the thousand friends that love to linger round the well-spread board. But, can these bestow independence on the mind? Let him retire and hold "communion with himself upon his pillow and be still," and he dare not answer in the affirmative. For there is indelibly written in the secret recesses of his heart that, with the multiplication of riches, care increaseth, and duties accumulate, and new, and heretofore unknown wants spring up in the soul, like the grass of the field in multitude.

If such a man hath, as is too frequently the case, made shipwreck of conscience, or good faith, or health, in his career, he hath but wrought as his portion a deeper desolation, and prepared for himself on earth a fate similar to that which is ascribed to Tantalus in the infernal regions. The pomp, and glories, and pageantries, and festivities of the world may pass before him in gorgeous and alluring succession; but his appetite is palled, his heart is seared within him, and his soul shrinks darkly aside, in the midst of proffered enjoyment and surrounding pleasure, and sighs for the days of his youth.

But, if honour and health remain unimpaired, and riches be accumulated, independence is yet afar off. The mere wealthy man stalks in golden fetters, and "lives and

moves and has his being" in an artificial world, to the dictates and opinions of which he is an abject and bonded slave.

Unfortunately somewhat of this description might be truly said of many whose natural position is in the higher grade of society; a class of which it will be sufficient to say that, although the duties of their station may frequently be irksome, “weary, stale, flat and unprofitable," happiness and respect follow the performance thereof. Importunity and ingratitude may annoy, and crouching servility and fashionable folly may disgust; but the truly noble mind knoweth "the way in which it should go,” and moveth on, like the stately vessel upon the face of the waters, shunning alike the Scylla of restless ambition and the Charybdis of morbid sensibility and soul-enervating lethargy.

With the vulgar, independence and riches are synonymous; and they endure strange privations and make inordinate sacrifices for the attainment of the latter : but

Avarum irritat, non satiat pecunia. The long-continued habit of calculating how to amass strikes forth its roots and becomes implanted in the soul of man; and the soil in which it is nourished must be returned to its parent earth ere the union can be dissolved. The ruling passion clings with inveterate tenacity, and is ever exhibiting itself, even amid the self-conceited and reckless display of wealth and ostentatious liberality.

The man who hath acquired great wealth, so far from having attained independence, hath but removed himself from the station in which he was placed, (and where, perchance, he was respected and useful, and might have been happy,) into another, wherein he is merely endured. It has been said that the most fortunate of these children of mammon, our great capitalists, "tread close upon the heels of our nobility"-but they are still at the heels. They have left behind them, in their career, the friendships of their earlier days, which they seldom dare to acknowledge; and strive to unite themselves with a society which shrinks from the contact.

There are exceptions to every rule. But the situation of a “parvenu" is not to be envied. If he shall have achieved that difficult, and, seldom effected, task of conquering the desire of yet increasing his store, he has a faint glimmering of future enjoyment. But independence is yet far

distant. Anxiously he watches for the great man's smile, and dreads the coxcomb's sneer. The wit is as a serpent in his path. He is tremblingly alive to all that is passing around him; and the ebullitions of youthful mirth and high spirits fall, like sounds "of ill omen," upon his ear, for he suspects them to be raised at his expense.

Unfitted for the situation in society in which he aspires to move, by the very course which he has followed to attain it, his condition presents a picture of "the vanity of human wishes" scarcely worthy of being traced in detail; for, so numerous, and minute, and paltry are the obstacles between him and independence, that his very servants appear to be formidable critics and hired spies over his conduct.

Where then is independence to be found, if riches cannot purchase it? It is not to be found in the paths of glory and ambition, which ever leave an “aching void" in the heart, and, like the insatiate leech, exclaim "Give! give!" If man, in society, where all are mutually dependent one upon another, be capable of attaining to a state in any degree worthy the name of independence, it must be sought by conquering the stubborn will, the unholy wish, and the baseborn whisperings of envy-by endeavouring to be content with such things as we have, and seeking to do our duty in that situation of life in which it hath seemed fit to the Almighty disposer of events to place us.

This is a purely mental process, and little dependent on exterior circumstances. The well-regulated mind, in its progress therein, will discover that there exists not the smallest necessity for abandoning the advantages incident upon any peculiar position in society. Such a mind will calmly look around, and render them all availing to the accomplishment of its own serenity. Reflection, observation, and experience will soon demonstrate, that the cup of unmingled happiness appertains not to humanity as a lasting possession; and that if, at times, it be proffered, we seldom taste thereof without embittering the draught by our own "vain imaginings," and useless and tormenting reflections upon the rarity of its

We are all,

The

from the nether spring. avowedly, in pursuit of happiness. body is hurried to and fro in search of pleasure, and returns, ever weary and dissatisfied, while the wells of life are neglected or polluted; yet from them only may the pure element, the sparkling draught that refreshes and invigorates the soul, be ever drawn. We determine to be happy, and fly from or shun the only source from whence happiness can be obtained; it is within our own breasts, and we seek it in extraneous follies, and wild and extravagant anticipations and schemes for the future.

And what follows? Onward we pursue our downward course, while the mind moaneth within, in solitary desolation, overshadowed and darkened by disappointment. A hateful train then, too frequently, take possession, "envy, hatred, and malice, and all uncharitableness" make their appearance. We look upon the "good things" of others with an evil eye and a distorted judgment; comparing their, apparently, happiest moments, with those of our own seeret grief. And downward, downward the degraded spirit wends its murky way into the depths of misanthropy, the furious madness of dissipation, or the impenetrable gloom of despair.

It is not knowledge, nor great mental acquirements; neither is it talent, or learning, or even genius itself, that can bestow upon man that portion of independence to which he may attain, although such qualities will enable him to reap a more abundant harvest of delight when it shall be acquired. It is the conquest over vain wishes, the anchoring of the soul within the range of our own possessions, that can alone effect this "consummation" so devoutly to be wished." Such a state of mind is beautifully described by Martial

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Vis fieri liber? Mentiris Maxime, non vis:
Sed fieri si vis, hâc ratione potes.
Liber eris, cœnare foris si, Maxime, nolis;
Veientana tuam si domat uva sitim ;
Si ridere potes miseri chrysendeta Cinnæ ;
Contentus nostra si potes esse toga;
Hæc tibi si vis est, si mentis tanta potestas,
Liberior Partho vivere rege potes*.

And such a state of independence is

*The following translation is from memory:Would'st thou be free? "Tis your chief wish you say. Come on-I'll shew thee then the certain way. If to no feasts abroad thou lovest to go, When bounteous Heaven doth food at home bestow; Can'st smile at pomp, and bound each wish and care, To thine own fire-side, and thy humbler fare; If thou the fitness of thy clothes dost prize

By their own use, and not by others' eyes;

If, in thy mind, such power and greatness be,
The Persian king's a slave, compar'd to thee.

within the reach of thousands, and tens of thousands, and hundreds of thousands, who labour and fruitlessly toil to find it else where. Man is the same in all ages. Still the "chrysendeta vasa”—the "vessels of gold and the vessels of silver," are objects of desire and envy. Paltry ambition ever loves display; and the misguided mind chuckles amid its finery, conceit, and foppery, alike in the ducal palace and the humble tradesman's crowded room.

An opinion seems to have gone forth among men, that independence is to be best exhibited by affecting the habits, and imitating the follies of those whom fortune has placed in the grade above us. A something, of which we are not possessed, must appear to be within our power; and we cherish the miserable and deceitful wish of seeming what we are not, to the destruction of that portion of independence which might be our own, were we contented to be and to appear what we really are.

The monarch on his throne, and the high and mighty among men, can enjoy no other independence than that which centres in the mind. They may exert their authority, and issue mandates which none dare to disobey. Palaces shall arise at their bidding, and the desert kindle into beauty, and the waste become redolent with the fragrance of the East; but, ever vainly shall issue, from the high places, the cry of 66 Bring me happiness!" if the mind within shall have neglected its own possessions. Deep in the recesses of the human heart there is a garden of Eden, or a wilderness of thorns a mysterious labyrinth, which, like the Elysian Fields of the ancients, is either a place of endless and un

utterable delight, or of unlimited torture and condemnation. Therein only groweth the tree of independence, and we who will cultivate the soil may taste of the fruit. A rich harvest of delight will be his portion. He, indeed, may "look down and smile at pomp," for he will have "that within which passeth show :" and, when he beholds others seeking, in erroneous paths, for that calm enjoyment which he will have acquired, a feeling of pity may, for a moment, o'ercloud his spirit, but envy can have no place in his heart. And somewhat like this is independence. Why then do not men more frequently attain it? Alas! there is one most formidable and often insuperable obstacle; a remora stretched across our path of life; a lion ever lurking in our way. It is not the fiat of power, nor the yet more imperious mandate of poverty; neither the cold whisper of prudence, nor the warning voice of experience. It is something far more powerful than all these. It is no less than the mean, dastardly, contemptible fear, not of the good and wise, and great, and highly gifted, among our race; but, strange to say! of those whom we inwardly despise! While, perchance, scarcely an individual bestows a thought upon our destiny, whether it be for good or evil, we vainly fancy ourselves elevated, as upon a pinnacle, and that

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THE WORLD" is watching our actions. As willing, degraded and purblind slaves, we feel that we must obey its dictates, and respect its opinions; and, under the influence of the infatuation, we go forth, and are content to believe that they are oracularly delivered by the first silly gossiping person

we meet.

Before the reader commences the narrative here offered to his attention, it may be necessary he should be informed who and what a Suniassi is. The Suniassi then is a brahmin of the highest spiritual order; a devotee who imagines that, by rigid penances and a life devoted to great privations, he can so discipline his body as to cleanse it from all carnal defilements, and at length elevate it to such a state of purity as to fit it for Indra's paradise, without any vicarious expiation; in which method of remedial intervention on the part of an allwise and merciful God, of course, as a heathen, he does not believe.

There are supposed by the Hindoos to be four degrees of probation. The first may be entered by the young brahmin noviciate so early as his eighth year, when the preliminary ceremony of putting on the zennar is performed. This badge is a cord composed of three threads, in memory of the Trimourti, or three great deities of the Hindoos, the Creator, Preserver, and Destroyer, under the names of Brahma, Vishnoo and Siva. As soon as this cord is attached to the youthful candidate for spiritual distinction, his first probation commences. He now quits his father's house, and is placed under the tuition of a brahmin, who initiates him into all the mysteries of the sacred order. After a while his head is shaved, except a single lock at the back of the crown. He is denied every kind of enjoyment. The strictest purity of conversation and of action is maintained. youth is passed in the severest mortifications. His days are occupied in prayer, ablutions, and studying the Vedas, or Hindoo scriptures. At night he casts himself upon a bed of foul straw, or under the first tree that stands in his path, wrapped in the skin of a tiger or of a stag, the hides of all other animals being supposed to communicate pollution. This first probationary state continues generally twelve years; in some instances only five.

His

The second stage, which immediately succeeds the first, is one of still greater denial. The stern novice rises at least two hours before daybreak, and his whole time is passed in the strictest ceremonial

observances. He supports life by gleaning in the fields, or by begging a handful of rice from the casual passenger, and even part of this scanty supply he throws into the fire as an offering to the dead. He passes the greater part of the night in observing the course of the moon and planets, and contemplating the spangled skies, which will sufficiently account for the skill in astronomy exhibited by many of the brahmins.

The third stage is one of still more severe trial than either of the two former. The devotee retires to the desert, where he passes the remainder of his days in utter solitude and privation; preparing his soul,by holy contemplations, for that state to which it aspires in the Swerga, or eternal paradise. He wraps his aged limbs in the most scanty covering, neither cuts his hair nor pares his nails, sleeps upon the bare ground, fasts all the day, and at the approach of night relieves his long and severe abstinence with a few grains of boiled rice. life is one uniform scene of dreadful infliction, and he often expires under the severitics of his penances remote from any human habitation, without a relative to close his eyes, or a friend to receive his last sigh.

His whole

The fourth stage of probation undergone by the fanatical brahmin, is the state of Suniassi. This only differs from the third state in the horrible tortures endured by the aspirant for the Swerga. The self-inflicted torments by which the Suniassi signalises his term of expurgation positively exceeds belief, and yet the facts are established by testimony not to be impeached. The writer of this narrative has himself witnessed acts of self-torture absolutely frightful to behold.

When the devotee has attained to the enviable state of the Suniassi, he becomes a sort of subordinate divinity in the eyes of his inferiors. They pay him the profoundest homage; frequently seeking the desert in which he passes his days, to attest their veneration for a being so sanctified. By the austerity of his life, and the extreme severity of his torments, the Suniassi imagines that he entitles himself to ever

lasting reward in the sensual heaven of his idolatry, into which the gods themselves cannot refuse him admission. Having paid the price, he claims the reward, as a right which is admitted.

It is maintained by the brahmins that a devotee in the fourth stage of probation, can, by some mystical act of devotion, dispossess his living body of the spirit and ascend to the regions of immortal fruition; that he can return at pleasure, and repossess the inanimate but not defunct frame, which acquires additional purity by these intervals of exanimation; the soul, by its intercourse with beatified spirits, becoming the more purified in proportion to the frequency of such heavenly communion.

In a large tract of uncultivated country between the Indus and the Ganges, there was a vast extent of impermeable jungle, where the tiger and hyæna prowled undisturbed by the foot of the traveller, who seldom ventured into those almost impenetrable recesses. Here the sunbeam never enlivened the murky solitude, and in vain the reptiles crawled from their thick covert to bask in its refreshing glories. The dews of night drew from the earth a rank and exuberant vegetation, pernicious to human life; and in places where the bones of animals lay unburied after the carnival of beasts of prey, the forest appeared a gloomy Golgotha. Near its border, under the rude canopy of a naked rock, in a natural cavern by the side of a small hill, a Suniassi might be seen, by such as sought the sacred abode of the devotee, performing his daily discipline of spiritual penance. He was a prince holding supremacy over a territory of considerable extent, and exacting obedience from a numerous population. He was married to a princess of great beauty, who rather reverenced him for his eminent sanctity, than loved him for those personal distinctions which, no doubt, contribute more to endear the marriage state than a life exclusively passed in the most rigid austerities. She had united herself, however, to the reputed saint in consequence of the extraordinary reputation he had acquired, as a man honoured even by the gods, and reverenced with the profoundest affiance by men of the highest character, for devotion and integrity of life. He was nevertheless happy in his marriage, as his lovely consort exhibited towards him extreme respect, not to say submission; and when not employed in the severities of his probationary

discipline, he was said to enjoy her society with a relish proportioned to the privation which his condition of a Suniassi necessarily imposed upon him. When he returned from the desert to the blessings of his domestic hearth, his visits to the palace were kept a profound secret, as anything like relaxation from the rigid abstinence from all enjoyment, however rational or moderate, enjoined by the rules of his order, would be deemed incompatible with that spiritual exaltation claimed by the Suniassi over the rest of the Hindoo community. It was generally supposed that he never quitted the cavern in the desert, but daily practised there those austerities which, by torturing his body, purified his soul. The periods of his visits to the jungle, and of his return to the palace, were only known to a single slave, who had for many years served his master with such fidelity as to obtain his esteem, which seemed daily to strengthen. He sometimes attended him in his privacy, and was an eye-witness to those tortures which the brahmin voluntarily inflicted upon himself.

The slave occasionally conducted parties to the forest while the Suniassi was performing his acts of penance, in order that the sanctity of his sovereign might be seen. The fame of it spread through the towns and cities of his dominions. Yougal at length obtained so entirely the saint's confidence, that the latter frequently performed before him those mysterious rites not permitted by the rules of his order to be witnessed by mortal eye. In proportion as the master's assurance of the menial's fidelity increased, the latter appeared the more anxious to deserve the good opinion of the royal fanatic, by unremitting attention to his commands.

It was the occasional practice of the Suniassi, to transport his own spirit from the clay in which it was imprisoned, to the regions of everlasting light, where the Asuras* dwelt in undisturbed tranquillity amid gardens of eternal bloom and fragrance, in Indra's heaven. It happened that Yougal, during one of his visits to the desert with his sovereign, whom he used occasionally to attend when the latter retired thither to his penances, met with a young Hindoo, the daughter of a pariah, who inhabited a hovel in a remote part of the jungle. Here he lived retired from the haunts of men to carry on his humble oc* The Asuras are good spirits.