BEAUTY OF THE PLAINS 9 



most they would appear dull, monotonous, unin- 

 teresting. There is no horizon to which the eye 

 can wander and find satisfaction in remote distance. 

 There is no hill to which to raise our eyes and our 

 souls with them. The outlook is confined within 

 the narrowest limits. Palm trees, banyan trees, 

 houses, walled gardens, everywhere restrict it.' 

 The fields are small, the trees and houses numerous. 

 Nothing distant is to be seen. To the European 

 the prospect is depressing. But to the Bengali it 

 is his very life. These densely inhabited plains are 

 his home. They have, therefore, all the attraction 

 which familiar scenes in which men have grown up 

 from childhood always have. . A Bengali prefers them 

 to high mountains. He loves the sight of the bril- 

 liant emerald rice-fields, of the tall feathery palms, 

 of the shady banyan trees, of the flaming poin- 

 settias, the bright marigolds, cannas and bougain- 

 villea, the many-coloured crotons and calladiums, 

 the sweet-scented jasmine, oranges, tuberoses, and 

 gardenia ; and the gaudy jays, the swiftly darting 

 parrots, and the playful squirrels. He loves, too, 

 the bathing-pools, and the patient oxen, and the 

 cool, sequestered gardens. And he loves these 

 things fox their very nearness. His attention 

 is not distracted to distant horizons and inac- 

 cessible heights. All is close to the eye and easily 

 visible. His world may be small, but it is all within 

 reach. He can know well each tree and flower, 

 each bird and animal. It is not a wide and varied 

 life. But it is an intense and very vivid life ; and 

 to the Bengali, on that account, more preferable. 

 And if it is confined it is at least confined in 



