[Illustration:  CARPENTERS AND BLACKSMITHS AT WORK]

As I have said, every village is a self-contained little commune.  All trades necessary to supplying the wants of the villagers are represented in it.  Besides the profits from his actual calling, nearly every man except the daily labourer, has a little bit of land which he farms, so as to eke out his scanty income.  All possess a cow or two, a few goats, and probably a pair of plough-bullocks.

When a dispute arises in the village, should a person be suspected of theft, should his cattle trespass on his neighbour’s growing crop, should he libel some one against whom he has a grudge, or, proceeding to stronger measures, take the law into his own hands and assault him, the aggrieved party complains to the head man of the village.  In every village the head man is the fountain of justice.  He holds his office sometimes by right of superior wealth, or intelligence, or hereditary succession, not unfrequently by the unanimous wish of his fellow-villagers.  On a complaint being made to him, he summons both parties and their witnesses.  The complainant is then allowed to nominate two men, to act as assessors or jurymen on his behalf, his nominations being liable to challenge by the opposite party.  The defendant next names two to act on his behalf, and if these are agreed to by both parties, these four, with the head man, form what is called a punchayiet, or council of five, in fact, a jury.  They examine the witnesses, and each party to the suit conducts his own case.  The whole village not unfrequently attends to hear what goes on.  In a mere caste or private quarrel, only the friends of the parties will attend.  Every case is tried in public, and all the inhabitants of the village can hear the proceedings if they wish.  Respectable inhabitants can remark on the proceedings, make suggestions, and give an opinion.  Public feeling is thus pretty accurately gauged and tested, and the punchayiet agree among themselves on the verdict.  To the honour of their character for fair play be it said, that the decision of a punchayiet is generally correct, and is very seldom appealed against.  Our complicated system of law, with its delays, its technicalities, its uncertainties, and above all its expense, its stamp duties, its court fees, its bribes to native underlings, and the innumerable vexations attendant on the administration of justice in our revenue and criminal courts, are repugnant to the villager of Hindostan.  They are very litigious, and believe in our desire to give them justice and protection to life and property; but our courts are far too costly, our machinery of justice is far too intricate and complicated for a people like the Hindoos.  ‘Justice within the gate’ is what they want.  It is quite enough admission of the reality of our rule—­that we are the paramount power—­that they submit a case to us at all; and all impediments in the way of their getting cheap and speedy justice