We had, moreover, tampered with the Hindoo religion. “... I think a very great error exists as to the assumed prejudice of Hindoos with regard to what is called missionary enterprise. The fact is that ... the Indian population generally, with the exception of the Mussulmans, are educated in a manner which peculiarly disposes them to theological inquiries.... They are a most ancient race; they have a mass of tradition on these subjects; a complete Indian education is to a great degree religious; their laws, their tenure of land depend upon religion; and there is no race in the world better armed at all points for theological discussion.... Add to this, that they can always fall back upon an educated priesthood prepared to supply them with arguments and illustrations.... _But what the Hindoo does regard with suspicion is the union of missionary enterprise with the political power of the Government._ With that power he associates only one idea, violence.... It appears to me that the legislative council of India has, under the new principle, been constantly nibbling at the religious system of the natives.” It had tried to adapt Western systems to Oriental habits. In its theoretical system of national education the “sacred Scriptures had suddenly appeared in the schools; and you cannot persuade the Hindoos that those holy books have appeared there without the concurrence and the secret sanction of the Government.” Systematic female education, again, had been commanded--a most unwise step, considering “the peculiar ideas entertained by Hindoos with regard to women.” But two acts had even more contributed to the ferment of native feeling. The first, that no man who changed his religion should be deprived of his inheritance. That struck at the main purpose of property in India, which consists in being a sacred trust for religious objects. The second, that a Hindoo widow might marry again, “which is looked upon by all as an outrage on their faith,” uncalled for, and fraught with alarm.