The rest of the pilgrims we meet are for the most part of the two monastic orders of Gosains, or the followers of Siva, and Bairagis, or followers of Vishnu, and Muhammadan Fakirs.  A Hindoo of any caste may become a member of these monastic orders.  They are all disciples of the high priests of the temples of their respective gods; and in their name they wander all over India, visiting the celebrated temples which are dedicated to them.  A part of the revenues of these temples is devoted to subsisting these disciples as they pass; and every one of them claims the right of a day’s food and lodging, or more, according to the rules of the temple.  They make collections along the roads; and when they return, commonly bring back some surplus as an offering to their apostle, the high priest who has adopted them.  Almost every high priest has a good many such disciples, as they are not costly; and from their returning occasionally, and from the disciples of others passing, these high priests learn everything of importance that is going on over India, and are well acquainted with the state of feeling and opinion.

What these disciples get from secular people is given not only from feelings of charity and compassion, but as a religions or propitiatory offering:  for they are all considered to be armed by their apostle with a vicarious power of blessing or cursing; and as being in themselves men of God whom it might be dangerous to displease.  They never condescend to feign disease or misery in order to excite feelings of compassion, but demand what they want with a bold front, as holy men who have a right to share liberally in the superfluities which God has given to the rest of the Hindoo community.  They are in general exceedingly intelligent men of the world, and very communicative.  Among them will be found members of all classes of Hindoo society, and of the most wealthy and respectable families.[6] While I had charge of the Narsinghpur district in 1822 a Bairagi, or follower of Vishnu, came and settled himself down on the border of a village near my residence.  His mild and paternal deportment pleased all the little community so much that they carried him every day more food than he required.  At last, the proprietor of the village, a very respectable old gentleman, to whom I was much attached, went out with all his family to ask a blessing of the holy man.  As they sat down before him, the tears were seen stealing down his cheeks as he looked upon the old man’s younger sons and daughters.  At last, the old man’s wife burst into tears, ran up, and fell upon the holy man’s neck, exclaiming, ’My lost son, my lost son!’ He was indeed her eldest son.  He had disappeared suddenly twelve years before, became a disciple of the high priest of a distant temple, and visited almost every celebrated temple in India, from Kedarnath in the eternal snows to Sita Baldi Ramesar, opposite the island of Ceylon.[7] He remained with the family for nearly a year, delighting them and all the country around with his narratives.  At last, he seemed to lose his spirits, his usual rest and appetite; and one night he again disappeared.  He had been absent for some years when I last saw the family, and I know not whether he ever returned.