When we had recovered from the
fatigues of the journey, and I had carefully committed to paper all that
I had learnt of the Okalbians, the Brahmin and I took a walk towards a
part of the suburbs which I had not yet seen, and where some of the
literati of his acquaintance resided. The sun appeared to be not more
than two hours high (though, in fact, it was more than fifty); the sky
was without a cloud, and a fresh breeze from the mountains contributed
to make it like one of the most delightful summer evenings of a
temperate climate.
We carelessly rambled along, enjoying the balmy freshness of the air,
the picturesque scenery of the neighbouring mountains, the beauty or
fragrance of some vegetable productions, and the oddity of others,
until, having passed through a thick wood, we came to an extensive
plain, which was covered with rose-bushes. The queen of flowers here
appeared under every variety of colour, size, and species--red, white,
black, and yellow--budding, full-blown, and half-blown;--some with
thorns, and some without; some odourless, and others exhaling their
unrivalled perfume with an overpowering sweetness. I was about to pluck
one of these flowers, (of which I have always been particularly fond,)
when a man, whom I had not previously observed, stepping up behind me,
seized my arm, and asked me if I knew what I was doing. He told us that
the roses of this field, which is called Gulgal, were deemed sacred, and
were not allowed to be gathered without the special permission of the
priests, under a heavy penalty; and that he was one of those whose duty
it was to prevent the violation of the law, and to bring the offenders
to punishment.
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