for surprise that they
should in consequence endeavour to repress them altogether. Moral for my
own use. Marry while I am young, or not at all.

AUGUST 1st.--To Wangut nine miles rough and hilly walking. I lost the
path once, and had a long scramble before I regained it. Though not a
pleasant march the scenery is very fine and picturesque. Wangut lies up
a short and contracted valley, an offshoot of the Scind which is a much
larger one, and the mountains around it are very grand especially at the
head of the valley, I put up large coveys of grey partridge on the road.
I have come here for the purpose of visiting some mines two miles
further on, and I intend to halt to-morrow and walk to see them. There
is a great row going on while I write this, the natives appear unwilling
to furnish supplies (milk, eggs, &c.,) and my boatman who has
accompanied me is applying his stick freely by way of persuasion. There
is of course a Babel of tongues and I sit within a few yards, quietly
ignoring the proceeding, though if necessary, I shall get up and add
some lusty whacks as my share of the argument. A mountain torrent--a
tributary of the Scind runs down the valley with the usual noise and
hurly burly. A travelling native carpenter is here, and all the village
are bringing their ploughs to be mended, he is very clever with his
hoe-shaped hatchet fashioning the hard walnut wood so correctly with it,
that the chisel is hardly necessary for the few finishing touches. I
have seen him make some wooden ladles very rapidly, and he has provided
me with a new set of tent pegs and mallet and a wooden roller, by means
of which I hope to avoid the digital process in the manufacture of my
chepatties.

AUGUST 2nd, Sunday.--Sitting having my feet washed by a servant
(delightful sensation) after my return from the ruin of Rajdainbul and
Nagbul. I meditate on the mutability of all things human. I have taken a
walk before breakfast this Sabbath morning to witness the overthrow of
former magnificence and the destruction of man's crafty handiwork. These
two temples erected many long years ago in honour of a Hindoo Deity
named Naranay, now stand desolate piles in the dense jungle. Fallen
stones cover the ground and great trees grow from the interstices of
those that still hold together and retain a semblance of their original
shape. Confusion reigns supreme and the place that was once the scene of
mistaken worship, is now only the haunt of the wild