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goats; and will keep as many la- ing it has become tyre, or coagula bouring oxen as will work three ploughs. Such a man, Trimula Nayaka says, besides paying rent, and finding his family in provisions, will annually make 100 Pagodas, or 331. 10s. 10d. His clothing, being a blanket, costs a mere trifle; and part of the money he expends in the marriages of the younger branches of the family, and in religious ceremonies; the remainder is in general buried, and a great deal of money is in this way lost; as when the men get old and stupid, they forget where their treasures are hidden, and sometimes die without divulging the secret.
The farmers also keep small flocks of goats and sheep, which are sent, under the charge of a boy, to the pastures near the village. In the evening they are brought home; when the goats are taken into the house, and the sheep are folded on the field of their proprietor.
The cattle in this country, as I have already mentioned, are milked by the men, who carry the produce home to the women; for they pre pare the butter. The milk, on its arrival, is immediately boiled for at least one hour; but two or three hours are reckoned better. The earthen pots, in which this is done, are in general so nasty, that after this operation no part of the produce of the dairy is tolerable to an European; and whatever they use, their own servants must prepare. The natives never use raw milk, alleging that it has no flavour. The boiled milk, that the family has not used, is allowed to cool in the same vessel; and a little of the former days tyre, or curdled milk, is added to promote its coagulation, and the acid fermentation. Next morn
ted acid milk. From the top of each potful, five or six inches of the Tyre are taken, and put into an earthen jar, where it is churned by turning round in it a split bamboo. This is done very expertly by a rope, which, like that of a turner's lathe, is passed two or three times round the bamboo, and a quick motion in contrary directions is given by pulling first one end of the rope, and then the other. After half an hour's churning, some hot water is added, and the operation is repeated for about half an hour more; when the butter forms. The natives never use butter; but prefer what is called Ghee, not only as that keeps better, but also as it has more taste and smell. In order to collect a quantity sufficient for making Ghee, the butter is often kept two or three days; and in that time a warm climate renders it highly rancid. When a sufficient quantity las been collected, it is melted in an earthen pot, and boiled until all the water mixed with the butter bas evaporated. It is then taken from the fire; and, for what reason I could not learn, a little tyre ani salt, or betel-leaf and reddle, are added. It is kept in pots, has a very strong smell, and is best preserved from spoiling by a little tamarind and salt, which at any rate enter into the dishes of all the natives that can afford to use Ghee. It is eaten when even a year old. Three Pucka Seers, or 252 Rupees weight of buffaloes milk, give 100 Rupees weight of Ghee; the same quantity of cow and buffalo milk mixed, as usual, give 80 Rupees weight; cow milk alone gives 60 Rupees weight, and goat milk only 40 Rupees weight.
ODE for the NEW YEAR, 1807.
HEN loud and drear the tempests roar,
high billowy rise,
And headlong 'gainst the rocky shore,
Of winds and waves that rage around,
The powers that skill and strength impart,
The nervous arm, th' undaunted heart,
Collecting,-firm he fronts the threat'ning storm,
And braves, with fearless breast, fell Death's terrific form:
So, though around our sea-encircled reigu,
The dreadful tempest seem to lower,
Dismay'd do Britain's hardy train
Await in doubt the threat'ning hour?
Lo! to his sons, with cheering voice,
Britannia's white sails swelling with the breeze;
Awe the proud foe on ev'ry side,
Seceding from their wonted toil,
Turn from the arts of Peace their care,
And see with emulative zeal
Our hosts congenial ardour feel;
Flam'd high on Gallia's vanquish'd shore;
When flow'd his current ting'd with Gallic blood;
Or fir'd by Acre's tow'rs the Christian Knight;
Not to Ambition's specious charm,
Not to th' ensanguin'd Despot's hand,
Is conquest bound-a mightier Arm
Than Earth's proud tyrants can withstand,
The balance holds of human fate,
Raises the low and sinks the great;
All that from force or skill the warrior draws,
Britain still hopes that Heav'n her vows will hear,
ODE for his MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY, 1807.
By HENRY JAMES PYE, Esq. Poet-Laureat.
TILL does the trumpet's brazen throat
Pour forth a martial sound,
Still do the notes of battle float
In warlike clangour round;
Nor rural pipe, nor past'ral lay,
To grateful Britain ever dear;
Yet, while Bellona's iron car
Whirls o'er th' ensanguin'd plains,
'Mid Hyperborean climes afar
Calls to his scatter'd naval host,
Behold, the sovereign Queen of Isles,
And see, on Plata's sea-broad stream
To George's mightier name.
Firm are the sons that Britain leads
And firm the hardy race that treads
And proudly may her Bards record
That drives the foe from Ocean's tide;
And loudly too, with fond acclaim,
Be hush'd awhile each ruder sound,
Bids all her echoing vales resound
Though round the tyrant's hated throne
They cannot blunt guilt's scorpion sting;
ON THE DEATH OF
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE CHARLES JAMES FOX.
[From Mr. R. P. Knight's Monody.]
LIKE all ages, nations, states, and climes,
"But genius, choicest gift of favouring Heaven,
And drags to light each truth that hidden lies;