the factory.

The hospitality of these planters is unbounded. They are most of them
much liked by all the natives round. I came a 'stranger amongst them,'
and in one sense, and not a flattering sense, they tried 'to take me
in,' but only in one or two instances, which I shall not specify here.
By nearly all I was welcomed and kindly treated, and I formed some
very lasting friendships among them. Old traditions of princely
hospitality still linger among them. They were clannish in the best
sense of the word. The kindness and attention given to aged or
indigent relations was one of their best traits. I am afraid the race
is fast dying out. Lavish expenditure, and a too confiding faith in
their native dependants has often brought the usual result. But many
of my readers will associate with the name of Purneah or Bhaugulpore
planter, recollections of hospitality and unostentatious kindness, and
memories of glorious sport and warm-hearted friendships.

On the Pooneah day then, or the night before, many of these friends
would meet. The day has long been known to all the villages round, and
nothing could better shew the patriarchal semi-feudal style in which
they ruled over their villages than the customs in connection with
this anniversary. Some days before it, requisitions have been made on
all the villages in any way connected with the factory, for various
articles of diet. The herdsmen have to send a tribute of milk, curds,
and _ghee_ or clarified butter. Cultivators of root crops or fruit
send in samples of their produce, in the shape of huge bundle of
plantains, immense jack-fruits, or baskets of sweet potatoes, yams,
and other vegetables. The _koomhar_ or potter has to send in earthen
pots and jars. The _mochee_ or worker in leather, brings with him a
sample of his work in the shape of a pair of shoes. These are pounced