# Bulandshahr: or Sketches of an Indian District; Social, Historical and Architectural/Chapter 1

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BULANDSHAHR.
CHAPTER I.
THE DISTRICT: ITS CHARACTERISTICS AND ITS CAPABILITIES.
THE area comprised in the present District of Bulandshahr was first administered from Aligarh, and then for a brief period from Merath, during the first twenty years after the British conquest As a separate political unit, it dates only from the year 1824. Since then it is reckoned as one of the six Collectorates that, together, make up the Merath Division of the North-West Provinces. It consists of an oblong tract of almost absolutely level country, which covers an extent of 1,915 square miles, being some 35 miles in breadth from north to south, with an average length of 55 miles from the banks of the Jamuná on the west, to the Ganges on the east. A third river, the Kálindi, more commonly called the Káli Nadi, runs through its centre with a south-easterly ​direction, and divides it into two almost equal portions. The Karwan, the Patwaiya and the Chúiya, are three minor water-courses, which frequently become broad and rapid torrents in the rains; at all other times of the year their bed is a mere shallow depression in the soil, with scarcely distinguishable banks, and is generally brought under cultivation. At some remote period, there seems reason to believe, the Chúiya was a permanent stream, of much greater importance than now; for the sites of several ancient towns and forts, as at Chandokh, Indor, Chimávali and Dibhái, can be traced on its banks; and recently, on sinking a well in its bed, the soil at a depth of 33 feet was found to be full of small shells. It probably depended for existence on the primæval forests, and gradually dwindled away as they were cut down. It still occasionally asserts its old strength, and on the 19th of September 1880, it suddenly rose and swept away a large masonry bridge, near the town of Dibhái, which the Public Works Department had finished only a few months previously.
Since the suppression of the Mutiny in 1858, Buland shahr, for administrative purposes, has been entirely separated from Delhi, which now forms part of another Province, the Panjáb. But the historical and social connection between the two localities is not so easily to be severed. The towers and domes of the ancient metropolis are visible from the border of the district, and in modern, no less than in pre-historic, times the special characteristics of the neighbourhood are mainly due to the action of Imperial influences.
According to tradition, the original seat of the earliest Hindu dynasty—which proudly traced its descent from the mythical Regent of the Moon—was at Hastinapur, a name that still survives, but attaches only to a desolate group of shapeless mounds overlooking the old bed of the Ganges, some twenty-two miles north-east of the Merath Cantonments. When king Dhritaráshtra divided his dominions between his hundred sons and five nephews, the latter, still famous in popular speech under their names of the Pándavas, founded Indra-prastha (now Indra-pat, or old Delhi) as one of their capitals, and gradually cleared the surrounding country both ​of its primæval forest and of the wild Nága tribes, who had made it their stronghold. On the termination of the internecine struggle, which forms the subject of the Mahábhárat, Yudhishthir, the last of the five brothers, again united the divided realm. He in course of time was succeeded on the throne of Hastinapur by Paríkshit, the grandson of his brother Arjun; and to Paríkshit's son, Janmejaya, is ascribed the foundation of Ahár, the oldest town in the district, from which he sent out a colony to build the fort of Baran, the modern Bulandshahr.
Thus, to Delhi chieftains are due the first reclamation of the soil and the first establishment of a social community, more than three thousand years ago while at the present day the local magnates, more numerous here than in any other part of the province, are for the most part the descendants of Delhi courtiers, who obtained grants of land from the Emperors, either in recognition of their submission to the faith, or reward for military services.
Thus the ancestor of the Biluch family at Jhájhar, now almost ruined by waste and litigation, was a companion-in-arms of Humáyun; another Biluch family, seated at Chanderu, rose into importance as local governors under Aurangzeb, and a century later acquired the village where they now reside, as a reward for services against the Mahrattas; the wealthy and influential Lál Kháni family, now headed by the two Nawàbs of Chhatári and Pahásu, and owning more than 200 villages in this and the adjoining districts, are descended from a Thakur of the Bargùjar clan, who abjured Hinduism under Aurangzeb's imperial persuasion; the Patháns of Jahángirabad were connected with one of the principal commanders of the Mughal troops in the reign of Sháh Alam, and subsequently obtained a grant of land from Lord Lake; and, lastly—though the list might be considerably extended—to come down to the present day, the nucleus of the handsome estate now enjoyed by the fine old Afghan soldier, Saiyid Mír Khán, better known as the Sardár Bahádur, was won by his gallantry in the Kábul war, and was augmented in acknowledgment of his distinguished loyalty in the Mutiny.
The proximity to the Muhammadan centre of Government has not only largely affected the character of the entire population in the lower as well as in the higher classes, but has also had a considerable influence on the general aspect of the landscape. In dress, language, and caste​prejudices there is a conspicuous relaxation of customary Hindu usage, and till within the last few years, though every considerable village boasted a mosque of more or less pretension, a Hindu spire was seldom visible; the cry of the Muazzin had all but completely silenced the clang of the temple-bell and the boom of the devotee's conch. Now, that no active demonstration of religious intolerance is permitted, and every sect is allowed to practise its own rites and ceremonies, under the equal protection of the law, it is not to be expected but that the Hindus, who number 748,256 out of a total population of 924,822, will gradually begin to re-assert themselves. The trade of the towns is entirely in their hands, but the prestige that attaches to ownership of the land is mainly on the side of Islám. Though the surface of the stream may appear abnormally smooth, there is a strong under-current of jealousy, faction and intrigue, which rash experiments in administration would speedily develop into a very real danger.
In point of population, as recorded by the census of 1881, the district stands sixteenth in the list of 49 which, together, constitute the United Provinces. But by the License Tax assessments, which are the most trustworthy test of general prosperity, it comes as high as fourth, having only Cawnpur, Merath and Aligarh above it. This remarkable pre-eminence is due to a variety of causes, the principal being the lightness of the Government demand under the head of land revenue. The existing settlement was introduced in 1865, and will expire in 1889; when it is estimated that the demand will advance from a little over 13½ lakhs to at least 18. This event is naturally anticipated by the landlords with some little perturbation; but while they appreciate the manifold advantages to themselves of the present golden age, they also recognise the right of the State to participate in the general increase of agricultural well-being. Great attention has been paid by the staff of district officials to the maintenance of the village maps and records of crops and rents, and—when the time comes for the new assessment—it is hoped that these papers will form a sufficient basis for all the necessary calculations. If so, the Government will save the large cost of a special establishment for a period of several years (the present settlement and its revision lasted from 1856 to 1870!) the people will escape a vast amount of annoyance and litigation, and the land will not be thrown out of cultivation, or denied improvements, ​in the fraudulent hope of concealing its capabilities. In no district as yet has any such summary procedure been found possible; if it is sanctioned for Bulandshahr, and works well, it will be a matter for unqualified congratulation.
Cereals are the great staple of the country; but there are also nearly 68,000 acres under cotton, while the number of indigo factories has now risen to 195. The soil, which is naturally fertile, and of very uniform character, has the further advantage of almost universal protection from drought; being largely capable of artificial irrigation from the distributories of the Ganges Canal. This flows through the whole breadth of the district in three wide and nearly parallel branches, one to the east, the other two to the west of the central Kálindi. Thus, the terrible famine of 1877 was here almost unfelt. No poor-houses or relief works had to be started by Government, nor had any steps to be taken to stimulate the importation of food-stuffs. The grain accumulated in more prosperous seasons, was extracted from the pits in which it had been buried, and sold greatly to the profit of the dealer, but at the same time, not at utterly prohibitory prices; while the credit of the tenant still remained so good, that he was able, if necessary, to negotiate a temporary loan without permanent embarrassment. Gangs of starving vagrants from Mathura, Bharatpur, and other centres of distress, plodded along the main roads; but the able bodied among them gradually found work in the Municipalities or elsewhere, and the utterly helpless were kept alive by the daily dole of food that was freely given by the larger landed proprietors in the villages, and by wealthy traders in the towns. It may, therefore, be considered as established by a recent and crucial test, that the district is practically secure against any ordinary calamity. But to map out the entire area—as has been proposed—in deeper and lighter shades of color according to a nice calculation of possibilities, and to determine, once for all, that such and such tracts will be entitled to relief in time of drought, and that others can always do without it, seems as unpractical a project as an attempt to construct a permanent chart of the clouds in the sky. If accurate observations are maintained, the occurrence of a storm and its probable intensity may be predicted, and precautions taken to minimize the danger; but circumstances must be treated as they arise, and no region in the world, by virtue of long previous exemption from misfortunes, can be marked off as absolutely secure for ever from special visitations of ​Providence. Inflexible routine may be a welcome support to a feeble administrator, but it is simply an embarrassment to a competent one; while legislation in itself is always an evil, and our Indian land-laws, above all, have had the disastrous effect of inflicting permanent injury on the class whom they were chiefly intended to benefit. When left to their own good feelings, the landlords, as a rule, are disposed to treat their tenants, in time of difficulty, with the same liberality that they exhibit in the other ordinary relations of life; it is only when the law confronts them with its rigid impersonality that they refuse to listen any longer to the voice of equity.
The great curse of the district is the prevalence of fever, an evil which must in part be attributed to what is otherwise so signal a boon,—the large extension of canal irrigation. In the autumn of 1879, an unusually heavy rainfall, following upon several years of drought, developed a terrible epidemic, which literally more than decimated the population. The crops stood uncut in the fields, the shops remained closed in the bazars; there was no traffic along the high roads, and no hum of business in the market-places; the receding flood of the great rivers showed their sands piled with corpses, while scarcely a water-course or wayside ditch but contained some ghastly relics of humanity, hastily dropt by hireling bearers or even by friends, too fearful for themselves, or too enfeebled by sickness to observe the funeral rites that are ordinarily held so sacred. In most of the towns and villages there was not a single house in which there was not one dead; in many, entire families had perished—parents, grand-parents and children—and whole streets became deserted. Probably, not a thousand people in all, from one end of the district to the other, escaped without some touch of the disease. The Pargana least affected was Ahár, which then by equitable decree enjoyed its compensation for many permanent disadvantages. It is a narrow tract of country, running along the high bank of the Ganges, with a poor soil inadequately watered and ill ​provided with roads, and which thus offers no attractions for the investment of capital on the part either of traders or land-owners.
As a result of the general mortality, the population which had been 937,427 in 1871, and since then had largely increased, fell in 1881 to 924,882; the solitary town in the whole district which showed any augmentation being Bulandshahr itself, which rose from 14,804 to 17,863. Still, distressing as it was at the time, the epidemic ran its course and left no lasting ill effects behind. On the contrary, the result was rather one of relief from overcrowding, and when the period of depression had passed, a large increase in the birth-rate showed that it was chiefly the very old, or young or infirm, who had been removed, and that the actual vigour of the community remained unimpaired.
Much has been done of late years by the irrigation department to correct the excessive humidity which has been caused by their canals, and extensive schemes for the relief of the most low-lying and water-logged lands have either been carried out or are still in progress. As many as 186 miles of drainage cuts have been excavated; the Kálindi has been straightened and kept within its banks, at a cost of Rs. 94,757; and similar operations estimated to cost Rs. 37,800, are now being commenced on the Karwan. The only portion of the district where artificial drainage is still required is the Jewar Pargana, and for this a provision of Rs. 20,000 has been made. To complete the project, however, it will be necessary to improve the bed of the Patwaiya, which will involve a further outlay.
All this must have a beneficial effect on the general atmosphere; but the special conditions of the towns and villages are so unfavourable. that many years must elapse before any marked improvement can be expected in their vital statistics. The whole surface of the country is a dead level, with the population massed in artificial depressions, which have been dug to supply the earth for building purposes. The houses, instead of being raised—as sanitary laws would require—are sunk some two or three feet below the level of the ground, and the sides of the pit form the basement of the walls. To complete the necessary height, mud is mixed and brought in from any waste spot near at hand. The result is, that the village itself stands in a hole, and is hemmed in by an irregular circle of trenches used as receptacles for every kind of abomination. Add to this, ​that herds of cattle every evening return to the homestead, and during the night share the same quarters with their masters. The soil is thus in the course of years saturated with impurities, and, as it is the custom to sleep either on the ground or on a very low pallet, it is no matter for surprise that the annual victims of fever are more than of all other diseases combined.
In the majority of cases it is not altogether poverty that is responsible for the utter want of domestic comfort, but rather an apathetic acquiescence in a degraded standard of social life arising from ignorance that anything better is obtainable. The characteristic oriental craving for decoration is frequently indicated by the carving of the wooden eaves and brackets and by the plaster niches and mouldings of the doorways, which, though rude in execution, are often of appropriate and picturesque design; but there is no appreciation whatever of cleanliness or ventilation, and no effort is made to secure them. In a really rich man's house the latter defect is equally conspicuous; the courtyards are larger and the buildings are more substantial, but the arrangements for conservancy are not a whit better, and there is generally much less evidence of taste, in consequence of a vicious tendency to abandon the indigenous style and copy the hideous vulgarisms of the Public Works Department. Before the people of India can claim to rank on an equality with Europeans, it is above all things necessary that they should reform their domestic habits of life: when they have learnt to order these matters aright, their political enfranchisement will follow spontaneously on their capacity for it; the reverse process must be unreal and can only eventuate in failure.
Next to the unhealthy condition of their homes, the two institutions that most conduce to the propagation of disease are pilgrimages and marriage-feasts. Both practices have their root in the intolerable monotony of ordinary existence, which grasps at any change for a relief, but disguises the real motive by an affectation of religious or social obligation. Closely packed in bullock carts or some other equally clumsy vehicle, the guests start in straggling procession, and jog along the weary roads for the distance of a hundred miles or more, halting only for an hour or two at an occasional well for a draught of water and a mouthful of parched grain. Aching in every limb from the jolting of the springless cart and the cramped position into which they have been squeezed, choked with dust, dizzy from the glare of the sun and want of sufficient food—for they purposely starve ​themselves in order to do more justice to the feast—they at last arrive at their journey's end. Here no accommodation has been provided for them, and no amusement, beyond enormous piles of indigestible food, with which they gorge themselves without intermission for three days and nights, freely abusing their host, should there be any shortcoming, and then start on the homeward journey, to endure the same discomforts as before, now aggravated by the agonies of indigestion. Every year half the outbreaks of cholera that occur may be traced up to these ghastly merry-makings. At pilgrimages there is no over-eating, but the exposure and the crowding are greater, and an essential part of the proceedings generally consists in drinking some filthy water from a turbid stream or stagnant tank of reputed sanctity, where thousands of people have been bathing. On neither occasion is there any thought of pleasing the eye or gratifying the mind, except by the excitement inseparable from being one of a crowd which is moved by a common object.
If the sordid discomfort of home were relieved by some element of culture, people would no longer look abroad for their enjoyments. They would be happier and healthier, nor would the ultimate cost of living be increased. Instead of money being hoarded for special occasions, and then squandered in thankless and unprofitable profusion, it would be distributed with judicious economy over the whole area of domestic requirements. Food, clothing, shelter and education are comparatively so cheap, that all but the very poorest could rear a family in a decent and respectable manner, if it were not for the extravagant outlay on marriages. The various attempts that have been made to enforce the reduction of such expenses are well-meaning, but have not achieved much success, nor do I think they are ever likely to do so. The root of the evil lies deeper, and it is that which has to be attacked. Make the general aspect of life more attractive, and there will then be less desire to smirch it with crude blotches of colour.
The recent advance in the general prosperity of the district has been faithfully reflected step by step and year after year in the annual Criminal Returns; for in India, as in England, to use the words of Tennyson's Northern Farmer, 'Tisn't them as has money that breaks into houses and steals." But anomalies of all kinds, however gratifying may be the exceptional circumstances which they indicate, are always per se displeasing to the compiler of statistics at head-quarters; for he has no ​personal concern with the facts, and is interested only in the symmetrical appearance of the figures exhibited in his tabular statements. A conventional explanation of the discrepancy has therefore to be found in an alleged concealment of offences. There is, however, no good reason for supposing that the people are more unwilling here than elsewhere to invoke the assistance of the Police for the recovery of stolen property, or the redress of any real injury. A murder or a burglary can scarcely be committed without attracting attention, and if in the case of petty disputes there is a reluctance to waste time and money by coming into court about them, such a habit of mind is rather to be encouraged than condemned.
Another matter in which the district falls short of official requirements is the consumption of spirituous liquor. Temperance is a virtue, in which the excise authorities are by no means ready to believe. If the revenue is not up to the ordinary standard, the only explanation of the fact that they will accept is smuggling. But in spite of exceptional vigilance, an evasion of the law is very rarely detected, and probably is rarely practised. The absence of drunkenness and the absence of crime go together and explain each other. If a tempting array of bottles were displayed at selected spots along the most frequented thoroughfares, many a dusty pedestrian might be induced to assuage his thirst with a draught, and so acquire a taste which would eventually be beneficial to the excise revenue. A similar result might follow from an increase of the number of drinking-shops in the towns and large villages, to serve as social clubs for the dissolute; but the advantage to the respectable community may be doubted, while the gain to Government would be more than counterbalanced by the charges of extra police and increased jail accommodation. ​With a large number of wealthy landed proprietors, mostly Muhammadans, living on their own estate, in the midst of their own tenantry, as many as thirteen of them exercising the powers of Honorary Magistrates and ready to report any suspicious circumstance they may observe; with the whole population singularly well-to-do and largely impregnated with Muhammadan ideas of social propriety; and with whole tribes ordinarily reputed criminal, forsaking their old predatory habits for the more assured profits of honest husbandry, it would be strange indeed, if the district statistics coincided precisely with those of other localities where industry and sobriety are not so conspicuously remunerative.
In addition to the many advantages already enumerated, the district is well provided with communications, having as many as seven Railway Stations, four on the East Indian and three on the Oudh and Rohilkhand line. It is also traversed by the Grand Trunk Road from the Aligarh to the Delhi border, and has a complete net-work of minor thoroughfares radiating in every direction from the town of Bulandshahr, which occupies the exact centre of the whole area. A few years ago, during one of the periodical financial panics, several of the roads were summarily condemned by the head of the Public Works Department, and broken up at considerable expense; but their reconstruction will be one of the first acts of the new Local Committee. The greatest obstacle to freedom of communication has hitherto been the Kálindi, which had a permanent bridge only at Bulandshahr, and no bridge or ferry of any kind whatever between that town and Hápur in the Merath district, a distance of about 30 miles. As the banks are high and sudden floods frequent, it was never safe for a traveller to reckon on the possibility of a passage, and the obstruction to traffic was thus most serious. This has now been removed by the munificence of one of the Honorary Magistrates, Saiyid Mihrbán Ali, who has constructed a substantial bridge of twenty-three arches, near the town of Guláothi, where his residence is, at the large cost of Rs. 30,000.
My letter to the Secretary to Government, in which I first broached the scheme of this Bridge, was dated 7 January 1881. I quote it at length, since the correspondence illustrates in a forcible manner the almost inconceivable insolence and obstructiveness of the Department to which the material progress of the country is mainly entrusted.
It ran as follows:
​"This district, as you are aware, is divided into two nearly equal portions by the Kdlindi river, which runs from north to south right through the middle of it. Between Hápur in the Merath district and the town of Bulandshahr, there is not a single bridge of any kind, nor even a ferry, and the consequent inconvenience (as you may imagine) is very great—the more so as an old thoroughfare runs from the town of Guláothi on the Merath and Aligarh road to Sayána near the Ganges and thence on to Garhmuktesvar—which would be very largely used, but for the uncertainty that always exists as to the possibility of getting across the river. Every cold weather that I have been in the district, I have found it impassable for carts, and when in the neighbourhood of Guláothi have been obliged to return all the way to Bulandshahr before I could reach Agota, which lies immediately opposite on the left-bank of the stream, thus making the distance 25 miles instead of something less than 5. Previous Collectors have urged the matter upon the notice of Government, but it has always been shelved, mainly I suppose on account of want of funds. I myself also wrote on the subject soon after I had taken over charge of the district, and represented that several of the land-owners in the neighbourhood had volunteered to contribute to the cost, but the correspondence came to nothing, the D. P. W. in their refusal to act insisting chiefly upon the want of statistics with regard to the number of people using the Guláothi and Sayána road; an absurdity which I can only compare to the question of how many steamers passed through the Isthmus of Suez before the canal was dug.
"However, though Government assistance has been refused, it now seems likely that this important work will be undertaken by private munificence. A few days ago, Munshi Mihrbán Ali, Rais and Honorary Magistrate of Guláothi, was calling upon me and, after mentioning that he always set apart a portion of his annual income for religious and charitable purposes, he went on to say that he had now a considerable sum in hand as to the disposal of which he had formed and rejected various schemes, but he had finally come to the conclusion that he could not spend it in any way more likely to perpetuate his name (he has no son) or benefit his neighbours than by building a bridge over the Kalindi on the Guláothi and Sayána road. The offer, I should explain, was entirely spontaneous and I had said nothing whatever to prompt it. I at once warmly approved of the idea and he then asked me to make the necessary arrangements and ​obtain Government sanction—his only condition being that the work should be carried out under my general supervision without any interference on the part of the D. P. W. whose bridges in this neighbourhood, notwithstanding their great cost, have been any thing but successful; three have been swept away during the last two years, one of them only a few months after it was finished.
"As the Munshi himself will be the only loser, if the bridge is a failure, while in case of success the boon to the public will be very great, I should have submitted the proposal formally through the Commissioner in the certain expectation that it would be brought favourably to the notice of Government, had I not been already warned by past experience—as I will proceed to explain. On the actual boundary line of the Bulandshahr and Aligarh districts, the Oudh and Rohilkhand Railway has a station called Atrauli Road, which is absolutely useless for want of any approach to it. The Aligarh and Anupshahr high road runs at a distance of a few miles from it, but the branch connecting it with the station is absolutely impassable even for the very roughest wheeled vehicle. The inconvenience being so great, Raja Bákir Ali Khán of Pindrawal, a village half way between the station and the high road, with an amount of public spirit that I thought did him great credit, volunteered to metal the entire length at his own expense and to keep it permanently in repair. Unless the circumstances have already come to your knowledge, I think you will scarcely believe that the offer, which I duly represented to the Commissioner, was treated with an utter want of courtesy and was finally after much delay unceremoniously refused, simply because the Raja wished to carry out the work himself and not through the agency of the Public Works.
"Warned by this experience, and not wishing to subject Mihrbán Ali to a similar rebuff, I write thus informally to you in the first instance, in the hope that you will be kind enough to mention the matter to His Honour and secure his general approval, before further steps are taken.
"The example once set, I fancy it will find at least one imitator; for about a year ago, Sir Faiz Ali Khán sounded me about building a bridge over the same river near Pahású-which would also be a great public benefit—but I had been too much annoyed by the Atrauli Road affair which was then fresh in my mind, to give him much encouragement."
​A gracious reply was immediately received to the effect that H. H . the Lieut. Governor was prepared unhesitatingly to accept and commend the public spirited offer, provided the Chief Engineer in the D. P. W. was satisfied that the Bridge was not likely to do mischief to the country up stream, by damming up flood water. If his opinion on this point was satisfactory, the Public Works would have no further concern with the undertaking and it might be executed as I and the donor thought best. The proposed design was at once forwarded to the Executive Engineer, but he, in despite of the express instructions of Government to the contrary, persisted in calling for minute information on a variety of matters entirely unconnected with the question of water way, suggesting the entertainment of a professional Surveyor, for whose pay a deposit should be made, and writing generally in such an unpleasant style that at last, on June 1, I again addressed the Government direct, representing that when a spontaneous offer had been made of a munificent gift, it was at least uncourteous, if not absolutely insulting to throw doubt on the good faith of the donor and to demand a guarantee of the immediate fulfilment of his promise; that collection of materials was progressing and that the work would certainly be started directly sanction was accorded. This, however, was not communicated for another 6 months, when at last on the 9 January 1882, Col. Peile, the Chief Engineer, grudgingly admitted that "he thought the 207 superficial feet proposed would suffice to pass the river without inconveniently obstructing it;" but even so he could not refrain from concluding with a paragraph of gross impertinence to myself. Now that the work is completed, the officers of the Department criticise the design for its extravagant water way. The excess however was intentional. If the slightest question could have been raised as to sufficiency on this point, the commencement of the work would have been indefinitely postponed and finally dropped altogether, after I had left the district. All that the Chief Engineer could bring himself to say regarding the proposed water way, though he must have been aware that it was larger than circumstances required, was that he did not think there would be any inconvenient obstruction.
In such a quiet and prosperous part of the country, where there is no great injustice to correct, or practical grievance to remedy, it seems the height of unwisdom to be for ever introducing new laws and systems of ​administration, which, however admirable in theory, have never been recognized as wants by the people themselves. What they require of Government is the strong maintenance of order, and the persistent extension of material improvements. These are boons which they can understand and appreciate far more highly than the invidiousness of the franchise and the anarchy of self-Government. Under sympathetic guidance, they are capable of great and rapid advance, but without direction of some sort, they are absolutely powerless. They can admire action in others, but without a strong stimulus are loth to engage in it themselves; their philosophic literature shows that they can rival the profoundest German professor in tracking the abysses of transcendental speculation; and with a little practice there can be no doubt that they would soon become as expert as a Frenchman in the elaboration of paper constitutions, and the technical conduct of a debating society; but in the palmiest days of their independence they never had a metalled road in the largest of their cities, nor a swinging punkha in the most luxurious of their palaces. And these are the typical blessings, which it is the province of the British Government to supply.
In the matter of school education, official efforts have not been attended with very brilliant success. The real civilizing influences, that within the last few years have so largely modified the thoughts and habits of the people, have been the Post and the Railway. Their beneficial stimulus has been felt universally; while the effect of our schools has been limited to a single class, and that numerically the smallest and politically the least important. Every head of a department is beset by a crowd of applicants for clerical employ, who have been taught at the public expense to read and write in the Persian character, and who consider that they have thus established a claim to maintenance for life in some Government office. Certainly, their acquirements would not often stand them in much stead in any other vocation. They have never learnt to think, and have totally lost both the faculty of observation and the instinctive propriety of taste which in the uneducated Oriental so often compensate for the want of scholastic training.
Unfortunately, the curriculum of our schools is not calculated to satisfy the modest requirements of the yeoman, the artizan, the trader, and generally the independent middle classes, which ought to supply the material for those local boards which the Government is now so anxious to organize. ​What primary instruction is given is not regarded as a possible end in itself, but only as a means to passing an examination. A little reflection must show that this is exactly the reverse of what is wanted. Instead of a teacher priding himself on the number of his pupils, who have got Government appointments, it would be far more to the purpose if he could boast a long list of boys who, after learning to read, write, and cypher, had settled down contentedly to their hereditary occupations, and had proved the value of education by turning out their work in a more intelligent style than their fathers had done before them. This would be a guarantee of genuine progress, and would check that rapid decay of all indigenous arts and manufactures which is the necessary result of our pernicious system of schooling, which aims at converting all the rising generation into mere office clerks.
There is no occasion whatever for the Government to take up this line of business. If all our village schools were to be closed to-morrow, the only function they adequately discharge, viz., the training of Munshis for Government service, would be carried on by private enterprise with much the same results as at present. A craving for vernacular education by people who can earn their bread without it is the very last want that is felt by an ordinary community. There were schools for teaching Latin in England for centuries before the idea was entertained that the masses required to be taught English. A similar superstition survives in India, and we encourage it by our village schools for Persian and Urdu. We exhaust the resources of Government in making a free gift of professional training to people who are quite able to provide it for themselves, instead of applying all our means to the diffusion of a simple vernacular education, far more important in its effects on national progress, but less productive of immediate individual advancement, and therefore at once more deserving of, and more dependent on, State patronage. Even in such a Muhammadanized district as that in which I am writing, more than half the members of the different municipal committees can read only the true vernacular character of the country, i e., the Nágari. In the proposed rural tahsili committees the proportion would be still higher. Such men, having never been brought under the influence of our schools, cannot undertake the management of affairs in accordance with European ideas, and are necessarily quite unable to follow and check intricate accounts which are kept only in Persian and English. If left to themselves, they will either do nothing, or else, in all that they do, they will be absolutely at the mercy of their paid clerk.
​The remedies that I would propose for these admitted evils, are two. In the first place, I would do away with the present system of Government inspection and put the primary schools of every district under the absolute control of the local committee, at the same time increasing the staff of the Deputy Inspectors, who would then be Deputies no longer—and the Sub-Inspectors. Not only, as has often been pointed out, are the Inspectors much too highly cultivated for the drudgery that devolves upon them, but in every country Government inspection has the inevitable result of raising the standard, which in primary schools is exactly what is not wanted. The effect of the Education Act of 1870 in England is vitiated by the same incurable tendency: the Board schools, which were intended for the poor, have gradually become suitable only for the lower middle classes, for whose benefit it was quite unnecessary that the whole community should be taxed. Secondly, the only character that I would allow to be taught in primary schools is the Nágari. This—to say the least—answers as well as any other for all the ordinary requirements of rural life, and it has the special advantage that it does not qualify for any kind of Government service. The Persian character would be taught, as now, in the pargana and tahsili schools, and boys who wished to learn it could proceed there, after undergoing the prescribed course of instruction in the primary school. It appears to me that nothing could be more equitable than this arrangement: Hindus would be gratified by having Hindi recognized as the basis of the vernacular, while the Muhammadan phase of the language would still retain the stamp of official currency.
As regards the language question, I have no patience with the continued use of the fantastic word Urdu. What people talk all over these provinces is Hindustani, which, when written, takes a Persianized form among Muhammadans and a Hindi form among Hindus. In both phases it has a Hindi basis, which cannot be got rid of even in the most artificial Urdu; on the other hand, a multitude of Persian words have been naturalized in its common vocabulary, which even in Hindi it would be pedantic to ignore. As it is already the general medium of intercourse throughout India, all Indian races may eventually be brought to accept it, and therefore the recognition of a multiplicity of spoken dialects as distinct literary languages is much to be deprecated. The best means of checking the growing divergence between Hindustani and the vernaculars of other parts of ​India would perhaps be found in the institution of an academy of orientalists, who would authoritatively settle the renderings to be adopted for new terms of European art and science. But the universal acceptance of a neutralized Hindustani, involving a complete reconciliation between Urdu and Hindi, can only be effected in one way. So long as the vernacular of the N. W. P. is written by Munshis in the Persian, and by Pandits in the Nágari character, it is utterly impossible that purism should be eradicated. The one party will indent on Persian and Arabic for their vocabulary, the other on Sanskrit; and though the grammatical structure may be much the same in both compositions, neither of the two will be intelligible to the writer of the other. The adoption of the Roman character would at once remove the whole difficulty; and if it were introduced in our schools, it would rapidly, without any forcing, supersede both its rivals as the vehicle for ordinary written communication.
I have already alluded to the decay of native arts and manufactures, for which our faulty system of education is partly responsible. Something is being done towards their revival by Schools of Design, as at Lahor, Bombay and elsewhere, and by local Exhibitions. But, so long as the dreadful upas tree of the Public Works Department is allowed to overshadow the country, sporadic efforts like these can have no perceptible effect on popular culture. Architecture is the first of all the decorative arts, and its degradation paralyses them all. Our public buildings, which with scarcely an exception are either ludicrously mean or obtrusively hideous, now occupy conspicuous positions in every station and municipality, and, being naturally accepted as models for imitation, are rapidly accustoming the native eye to what is vulgar and tasteless. What weight in the opposite scale can be attributed to the teaching of a few schools or an occasional grant for the restoration of an ancient palace or temple? If there is really a desire to revive oriental art, I believe it can be done without the fussy agency of a department and without any expense to the State, simply by allowing municipal committees to erect their own buildings, to make each Town Hall an emporium of local industry, and generally to develope indigenous talent by the exercise of judicious patronage. In technical as well as in the higher literary education, I believe that a healthy influence can be exerted by Government only from the outside, by removing artificial restrictions and encouraging spontaneous action. In primary education, on the other hand, ​the whole burden must fall on the State; but, by a simplification of the machinery, the cost and labour may be rendered much less than at present and the outturn much larger and of a more durable quality.
A notable stimulus has been given to the indigenous industries of the district by a local Show, which was started by a former Collector, Mr. Willock, in 1873. It is supported by voluntary subscriptions, which amount every year to upwards of Rs. 4,000. As a horse fair, it has succeeded so well, that it now receives an annual Government grant of Rs. 1,250 for prizes, and attracts remount officers from all parts of India. As regards agricultural produce, greater care is taken than before in the selection of grain for seed, so that Bulandshahr wheat is very largely exported and is quoted at high prices in the London market. Attention to the subject of cattle breeding is encouraged by a special Government grant of Rs. 100, but no improvement has yet been effected. As fodder becomes every year scarcer and dearer, the people must gradually reduce the extravagant number of miserable half-starved animals that they are now in the habit of keeping. With a smaller stock, of better quality, the compulsory reservation of grazing ground in every village will be most beneficial; but if it is started immediately, before the small farmers have fully realized how impossible it is for them, under the altered circumstances of the country, to support a large herd in good condition, the effect will probably be only to intensify the present evil. Until the breed of cattle has been improved, it is premature to attempt any improvement in the native plough. The arts and manufactures represented at the district show were, till lately, ludicrous and puerile. This department has now made great bounds: the Sikandarabad muslins, the Jewar durries and rugs, the Khurja pottery, the Jahangirabad cotton-prints and the Bulandshahr wood-carving are revivals or developments which are achieving a more than local reputation. The specimens exhibited in the Calcutta Exhibition of 1884 were awarded three prizes, including a gold medal and first class certificate.
In every kind of district work my experience is that the normal Government grants are extremely liberal and quite ample for the purpose. But the expenditure is so hampered and embarrassed by departmental ​interference, that foresight and economy are impossible, and systematic waste of course results in chronic impecuniousity. If in a native State, administration is ruined by caprice, still more so is it in British India by routine and returns. This is most conspicuously illustrated by the department of Public Works. For large imperial undertakings, such as railways, bridges over the great rivers, military roads extending the whole length of the province, and barracks for European soldiers, it is desirable to maintain an adequate staff of European Engineers. But for the ordinary requirements of a civil district, local native talent would be not only more economical, but also more efficient. The masons who reared the tombs and palaces that are still the most notable sights in the country, have direct descendants at the present day, in the creators, for instance, of modern Mathurá, which dates entirely from the beginning of this century, and justly ranks as one of the handsomest cities in northern India. If men of this stamp were allowed to design and execute our district buildings, the promotion of indigenous industry would become—so far—a reality, instead of a transparent fiction as hitherto. The only difficulty lies in their inability to satisfy departmental requirements in the matter of tabular statements and returns. These are based on an intricate and voluminous system of checks and counterchecks, which it requires some years' training to master, and assiduous labour to maintain. The entire energy of the whole establishment is concentrated on the manipulation of the accounts and the works are left to look after themselves. However badly the latter may turn out, if only they cost enough, they will make an imposing show on paper at the year's end, and will be regarded with complete satisfaction by the supreme authorities. For example, the completion of an embankment along the right bank of the Kálindi for the protection of the town of Bulandshahr, was specially mentioned in an annual report as an important work of public utility. The cost was Rs. 4,000: it was not added, perhaps it was not known, that the actual benefit was less than nil. In order to construct it, earth was dug from the town side, and the level of the ground was thus reduced below that of the bed of the river. The result was that for some years the drainage from the surrounding country collected, as in a basin, and was barred from all escape. The nuisance was partially remedied by the great flood of 1880, which breached the embankment in several places, thus proving it to be as powerless against the river in exceptional seasons, as it was effective for mischief in ordinary years. ​This is a fair sample of the injurious results of a policy which entrusts district works to irresponsible provincial agency; irresponsible, because the local authorities are powerless to interfere, while the departmental authorities—sublimely indifferent to such petty undertakings—see only the neatly tabulated entries in the official return, and these they complacently pass as quite en regle. Besides the embankment and some new barracks in the jail, the only other original work that has been executed by professional engineers during my tenure of office in this district, is the bridge, which, as already mentioned, fell down a few months after it was finished. In the extensive series of improvements, which in the course of five years have converted a mean village into a handsome town, the department has had no hand whatever, except that it greatly delayed their commencement by representing to the Government, with stupendous effrontery, that the result would be "an eye-sore."
Facts will never run off so smoothly as mathematical abstractions, and, therefore, to avoid friction, it is generally found advisable to adhere to the latter. The district officer signs these fancy documents by scores at a time, in duplicate or triplicate, at the top or the bottom, on the face or the reverse, in the blank spaces indicated by the engineer, and can only hope they are technically correct; for the purposes of actual check he keeps a simple statement of his own, which may be very unscientific, but is as least intelligible. About the middle of the month, when the returns have all been despatched and objections answered, the European Engineer feels a little at leisure, and drives out to see the bridge, or road, that may be in progress, gives a few hurried instructions, which he cannot stop to see carried out, and returns into the station, where he presents his bill for travelling allowance, at the rate of eight anas a mile. If there were only simple returns, such as the Magistrate himself could keep, without the assistance of a trained accountant, the engineer might be a native, who could hire for a couple of rupees an ekka or a pony that would take him to the remotest part of the district, where he could spend a day or two in the leisurely inspection of work, finding all the accommodation he required in some neighbouring village. His pay also would be counted by tens of rupees instead of by hundreds; and, as his supervision would be more continuous, there would be more of day-labour and less necessity for the employment of contractors, middle-men and munshis. These are the only people ​who profit by the high rates which prevail in the Department of Public Works. If the money went to the bricklayer, the mason, or the carpenter, there would be less cause for regret; but the whole present system seems to have been invented solely for the benefit of that very unprofitable person, the artificial product of our mistaken school policy, the Munshi, the parasite of the real working community If the position of the latter were improved and their work recognised at its proper value, as in England, the son of a skilled artizan would not think to better himself, as now unfortunately he often does, by abandoning his hereditary occupation and becoming a quill- driver in an office.
The disbandment of the whole corps of executive and assistant engineers would not only be the greatest possible boon to the districts, but would even be welcomed by themselves, if due regard were had to vested interests and appointments of equal emolument found for them in a more appropriate sphere. The officers of the Roads and Building Department are the one body of Government servants in the country who notoriously have no heart in their work. It is impossible that they should have. Though by profession engineers, they are in fact merely accountants' clerks. Of all the multitudinous circulars that year by year are issued for their guidance, scarcely one per cent. refers to matters of construction. The rest are complicated rules of procedure as to filling in returns; corrections of misprints or explanations of unintelligible phraseology in previous orders; or most frequently of all, fulminations of the direst penalties against any attempt to exercise independent judgment. The one exception is probably either puerile or mischievous; such as an elaborate specification and sketch of a child's tub, that was circulated not very long ago, with a sharp metal edge to it, which might be warranted to draw blood whenever used.
Again, what little work a District Engineer has to do out of his office, is profoundly uninteresting. The maintenance of a road is a task that requires no great intellect or skill, and in England would be entrusted to quite a subordinate; while in the matter of buildings, there is no scope for the exercise of taste or ingenuity, standard plans having been provided, from which no deviation is allowed, whatever may be the differences in the locality and nature of the site. The consideration of such particulars is of less importance than might at first be imagined; for the designs have been so skilfully contrived as to be equally unsuitable wherever they may be ​placed. For a man with the slightest element of humanity and good taste in his composition, it must be unspeakable misery to superintend the construction of edifices which will not only cause daily discomfort to the unfortunate officials who are doomed to use them, but will also permanently disfigure the landscape and pervert the indigenous sentiment of architectural propriety. The only innocent and legitimate source of gratification, of which the circumstances admit, lies in totalling up the number of miles for which travelling allowance can be drawn. On the other hand, no more devoted body of public servants exists than the Engineers in the Canal Department. They are taken from precisely the same class of men as their brethren on the roads; but they are less hampered by accounts; in dealing with such a subtle element as water, they are constantly confronted by unforeseen complications which afford exercise for ingenuity; and they have something in which they can take an honest pride, if at the end of each successive year their returns show a larger area to which they have extended the blessings of irrigation.
In a district like Bulandshahr, with many rich, liberal, and fairly well educated members of the native aristocracy, not gathered together in a few large towns, but residing on their own estates in all parts of the country, it would be an easy matter to constitute an influential and really representative Committee for the administration of local interests. As yet, however, no tendency whatever has been shown towards decentralising the control of local finance. On the contrary, the fatal demoralisation of the whole system of local responsibility as initiated by Sir William Muir in 1871 has been still more intensified. The Examiner of Accounts in the Public Works Department is now more despotic than ever. He is allowed to sequester local subscriptions and to mete them out as grudgingly as if they were Government grants; estimates and specifications, plans and sections, vouchers and receipts, are rigorously demanded before the pettiest work or the most trifling payment is sanctioned; cheap day labour is disallowed, and a wasteful system of contracts enforced, as easier of record in the central bureau: in short, economy, efficiency, local convenience, and actual results are counted as nothing in comparison with the symmetry of the paper returns. So long as a committee has no definite sources of income and no independent control over them, it is an abuse of language to speak of self-government at all. What is further required is less technicality in returns and ​closer inspection of results. If a committee were fully trusted with the expenditure of its funds, and at the end of each year received praise for success and censure for failure, it would soon take interest in the performance of its duties. Instead of an Examiner of Accounts there would be appointed an Examiner of Works. At present it is only the accounts that are tested, and as these are far too technical for the native members of the committee to understand, their action never comes under review at all. If a work is carried out promptly and successfully, the committee gets no credit for it, but on the contrary is probably reprimanded as troublesome, for anticipating some purely frivolous routine formality, or for some such irregularity as failing to obtain a receipt for four or five anas from a carpenter or bricklayer on account of a day's wages. To use the emphatic words of the Provincial Committee on Education, the powers that ought to be enjoyed by local boards are "usurped by an arbitrary and overbearing department, at a great sacrifice of economy, and with the worst possible results to local convenience and progress." Nothing could be more pitiably unreal than the Committee actually existing. It is supposed to have at its disposal an annual income of over Rs. 70,000; but almost the whole of this considerable sum is absorbed by fixed charges, or has to be expended by departmental agency. A single item of about Rs. 3,000 for petty original works is all that the Committee can call absolutely its own, and can spend on projects of its own selection. If in any year this item is omitted from the budget, the Committee is then debarred from any the slightest exercise of independent judgment. Being entirely supported by arbitrary allotments, it gains nothing by judicious management; for whatever may be so realized, is merged in Provincial funds, and no benefit accrues to the district. With resources of its own, a more complete control over a less extended area, and a system of accounts which it could understand, the Committee would rapidly develope into a genuine district council, a seat in which would be highly coveted, not only as a personal distinction, but for the substantial responsibilities that it involved. The sense of local power would act as a strong stimulus to local usefulness, and spontaneous beneficial enterprise would relieve the State of many burdens now unfairly forced upon it. No reasonable person will voluntarily drop his money into the bottomless pit of a Government department, the mouth of which is so barred by checks and counterchecks that extrication can only be effected by much technical dexterity, and after the endurance of long delay. For example, a local ​subscription was raised in 1864 to build the English school. Only part of the money was expended at the time and the balance was invested in the 4 per cents. Twenty years later, an additional class-room becomes necessary. The Committee naturally propose to provide funds for the purpose by selling out part of their Government stock. The Collector communicates this proposal to the Commissioner at the head of the Division; and he, after recording his opinion, sends it on to the Director of Public Instruction at Naini Tal, who forwards it with a recommendation to the Secretary to Government. Sanction is thereupon accorded, which is conveyed through the same circuitous channel to the Committee. Their Secretary then applies to the Accountant General at Allahabád. The latter writes to the Comptroller General at Calcutta, who eventually remits the money to the district to which it belongs. It must be borne in mind that the particular fund in question is in no sense Government property, but belongs solely and exclusively to the local Committee, which had originally raised it by their own efforts for the identical purpose on which they now desire to employ it. But even so, it is not allowed to be kept in the Treasury as a simple deposit, but has to be credited to the Public Works accounts and must be drawn in instalments, each of which requires a formal application and has to be verified by numerous signatures and vouchers, all of which are sent for scrutiny to Allahabad. In this particular case, the procedure, cumbrous as it is, is yet comparatively simple. It involves an inevitable delay of some months, but is otherwise free from serious complications. When, however, the consent of more than one department has to be obtained, before local action can be commenced, the worry to be undergone is immensely increased. If the committee had greater freedom, it would soon acquire the confidence of the public, and become the ordinary channel for the distribution of the many streams of private benevolence, which are now too often wasted for want of effective direction.
It is one of the most convincing proofs of the general incapacity for self-government, that in many towns and villages, accumulated funds are often left unutilized, and local improvements—that every one desires—are unexecuted, simply on account of jealousy and a want of mutual confidence. If the district officer will take upon himself the responsibility of administration, the community is only too glad to place the money at his disposal and to supplement it by further subscriptions. They will not trust it to ​any one of themselves; and if the new road, or tank, or market-place, or whatever it may be, involves, as it generally will, the demolition of a house or two and the appropriation of the site, the owners will resist to the utmost of their power any requisition advanced by their neighbours, but will at once, and in a most liberal spirit, fall in with the wishes of a European officer. It is not that any compulsion is used, for complaint would be immediately entertained in the Civil Court, but they have confidence in their rulers, and believe them to act from more impersonal and disinterested motives than they attribute to their own townsmen.
If used as a supplement and an incentive to private enterprise and benevolence, the surplus funds of the Municipalities and Act XX. towns might be made far more generally beneficial than they ordinarily are. During the last five years the improvements that have been effected in all the principal towns of this district are so enormous, that every visitor enquires with amazement where the money has come from. The mystery is partly explained by the larger income derived from reproductive improvements. Thus for the year ending the 30th September 1878, which was my first year in the district, the 'Miscellaneous' income of all the Act XX. towns amounted only to Rs. 572. It is now Rs. 4,900, i. e. nearly nine times as much. Similarly, in the Khurja Municipality the annual rent of the town lands has risen in the same period from Rs. 1,160 to Rs. 1,850, and in Bulandshahr from Rs. 507 to Rs. 1,550. If the same systematic development were maintained for another decade or two, it would then be possible in many places to abolish both the octroi and the house tax, and still have a sufficient income for local requirements. But, in order to ensure such results local knowledge is indispensable. When a Collector is simply a bird of passage, six months here and six months there, and with no special interests any where, beneficial action on his part is simply impossible, and without his initiation nothing will be done; an Indian district—like the whole of the great Oriental world—is absolutely incapable of making progress by itself. Again, the actual outlay has been much below ​the ordinary estimate for works of such magnitude, having been reduced by a system of immediate supervision, with no contractors and middle men, and no large establishment for the elaboration of accounts and returns. But the great secret lies in the persistent adoption of the principle, that no public improvement should be undertaken unless voluntary subscriptions are forthcoming as well as State aid. In order for this system to succeed, it is necessary to be in sympathetic accord with the people, and not to force upon them anything opposed to their prejudices, or greatly in advance of their real requirements. Though themselves illiterate and indifferent to the laws of hygiene, they are quite sensible of the value of education for their children and of the advantages to be derived from bridged and avenued roads, convenient tanks and ghats for bathing purposes, good wells, clean paved streets, commodious market-places, and substantial water-tight houses. In all such works as these, the majority of the people concerned are always ready to co-operate, and even the obstructive minority will in the end be gratified by the result. Instead of the impracticable dream of purely native self-government, if only a modest scheme of decentralization were introduced, every District Committee, without the worry and delay of repeated references for sanction to higher authority, would have certain limited funds of its own to lay out in the furtherance of local projects and the encouragement of native enterprise. The result would be a great and immediate saving in State expenditure, and the eventual development of a public spirit, which would be a real qualification for higher political responsibilities.
* ↑ After the fall of Aligarh in 1803, the Parganas (or Hundreds) of Baran (i. e. Bulandshahr) and Khurja were first placed under Colonel Ochterlony, the Delhi Resident. In the following year they were made part of the Aligarh District, and so remained till 1818, when Baran and the other Western Parganas were transferred to Merath; but this arrangement lasted only for six years.
* ↑ Commonly spelt 'Meerut,' for which Dr. Hunter in his Imperial Gazetteer proposes to substitute Mirath.' This, however, would be a very unsatisfactory correction. The word is identical with 'Mertha,' the name of an ancient hill-fort in Jodhpur. The first syllable 'mer' appears as a termination in Ajmer, Jaysalmer, &c., and means 'a hill' The old town of Merath stands on a considerable elevation, though apparently an artificial one.
* ↑ When the Hindi word had to be written in Persian or Urdu, the vowel in the second syllable was purposely lengthened by the Munshis in order the better to preserve its sound, and to prevent its degenerating into short a, as it soon would, were no vowel expressed. For a similar reason, the common Hindi termination pur, meaning 'town,' is always written by Munshis with a long a, and the short vowels e and i in English Proper names are almost invariably lengthened in the process of transliteration. The stream thus became the Kandi, from which the transition was easy to the more readily intelligible Káli nadi, 'Black river'; the pronunciation only being altered; since the written form of the two words Kálindi and Káli nadi in Persian characters is absolutely identical. The error is of respectable antiquity, as Yahya bin Ahmad, the author of the Chronicle entitled the Táríkh-i-Mubárak Sháhi, written about the year 1450, translates the name into Persian by the phrase Ab-i-Siyák, i. e. Black-water. It rises in Muzaffarnagar, flows through Merath into Bulandshahr, and thence after traversing Aligarh, Eta and Farrukhabad, falls into the Ganges about half way between the towns of Farrukhabad and Cawnpur.
* ↑ The North-Western Provinces have now 30,000 square miles, in which the arrival of a famine will, instead of bringing desolation and ruin, merely ensure an especially prosperous season for the fortunate proprietors of irrigated land. When the provincial system of railways is complete, and the Bhopal-Jhansi line to Cawnpur and Agra has triumphed over the obstinate procrastination of the India Office, 1,500 square miles under canal-irrigated wheat and barley ought to go far towards rendering this part of the country secure, whatever be the delay in the south-west: monsoon, or the caprices of the winter rains.
* ↑ It is satisfactory to observe that the altered condition of things has at last been recognized. Mr. Webster, the Inspector-General of Police, who was Magistrate of Bulandshahr from 1863 to 1866, writes as follows in his review of the year 1882:—"The circumstances of the people have changed greatly. They are far more prosperous than they were; cultivation has greatly extended, and large tracts which were grass jungles when I knew the district, and which harboured cattle-stealers and their booty, are now well-cultivated corn-lands; and what is more important as regards the cessation of crime, the very persons who used these lands as asylums in their thieving forages are now the cultivators of them. The Gújars, who used to commit at least a third of all the crime in the district, are now to a certain extent reformed, and only occasionally vary their agricultural pursuits by an expedition for the purposes of cattle or other theft."
* ↑ There are five stables in the district, at Malikpur. Baroli, Charávak, Bulandshahr and Masota, with stalls for seven Government stallions. Four of the horses are Norfolk Trotters, two thorough-bred English, and one an Arab. Donkeys are also kept for mule-breeding.
* ↑ These are a sort of second-class Municipality, constituted by Act XX of 1856, under the provisions of which a small house-tax is levied to defray the expenses of special watch and ward and of conservancy, any balance over being available for roads and drains and other such works. The income is, or can be, supplemented by market dues, slaughter-house fees, and the sale of the street sweepings for manure.