ube is drawn out, however, and pointed at him, and I commence peeping
through to arrange the focus, he gets uneasy, and when I am about ready
to perpetuate the memory of his fantastic figure forever, he moves away.
Nor will any amount of beckoning obtain for me another "sitting," nor the
production and holding aloft of a rupee. Whether he fancied the camera in
danger of going off, or dreaded the "evil eye," can only be surmised.

The famous fleet-footed mail-carriers of Bengal are now frequently
encountered on the road; they are invariably going at a bounding trot of
eight or ten miles an hour. The letter-bag is attached to the end of a
stick carried over the shoulder, which is also provided with rings that
jingle merrily in response to the motions of the runner. The day is not
far distant when all these men will be mounted on bicycles, judging from
the beginning already made at Allahabad and Cawnpore. The village women
hereabouts wear massive brass ankle-ornaments, six inches broad, and
which are apparently pounds in weight.

A deluge of rain during the night at Dilli converts the road into
streams, and covers the low, flat land with a sheet of water. The ground
is soaked full, like a wet sponge, and can absorb no more; rivers are
overflowing, every weed, every blade of grass, and every tree-leaf is
jewelled with glistening drops. The splendid kunkah is now gradually
giving place to ordinary macadam, which is far less desirable, the heavy,
pelting rain washing away the clay and leaving the surface rough.

Not less than four hours are consumed in crossing the River Sone at Dilli
in a native punt, so swiftly runs the current and so broad is the
overflow. The frequent drenching rains, the lowering clouds, and the
persistent southern wind betoken the full vigor of the monsoons. One can
only dodge from shelter to shelter between violent showers, and pedal
vigorously against the stiff breeze. The prevailing weather is stormy,
and inky clouds gather in massy banks at all points of the compass,
culminating in violent outbursts of thunder and lightning, wind and rain.
Occasionally, by some unaccountable freak of the elements, the monsoon
veers completely around, and blowing a gale from the north, hustles me
along over the cobbly surface at great speed.

Just before reaching Shergotti, on the evening of the third day from
Benares, a glimpse is obtained of hills on the right. They are the first
relief from the dead level of the