THE PHANTOM PALKI. Charles Johnston. Late November 1889. I remember a certain camping ground in the cool heart of a mango grove. The lucid air was They were very respectful, nay, deferential, for all their kidnapping, and if I had had some breakfast, say some good coffee and rolls, it would not have been half bad. But I was beastly hungry and getting hungrier. What had become of Punaswami of the scarlet turban, I could not even speculate on.
NEVERMIND THE BABU. Charles Johnston Late November 1889. “Sir! Do you not know me?” I looked closer. “I am Okhoy Kumar Ganguli, pleader of The Santal had no conception if a supreme beneficent God. Their religion was one of terror. Hunted and driven, from country to country, by the other peoples of India, they could not conceive how a Divinity could be more powerful than themselves, yet not wish to inflict them harm. Though the Santal had no God for whom to appeal, they believed in a multitude of demons and evil spirits whose wrath they endeavored, by supplications, to avert.