and we were washed about half-a-mile below the landing place aimed at; but "all's well that ends well," and I safely caught the mail train from Bombay, which ran into Allahabad early enough to let me have a bath and breakfast before going into Court at eleven o'clock.

Before the rains this river, which gave me so much trouble, is a miserable little stream hardly worth tucking up your trousers to cross, but six hours after the Monsoon bursts it becomes a dangerous torrent.

AZIMGARH.

Of the many places in the N.W.P. it has been my fortune to visit, the one I liked best was the lonely, out-of-the-way little town of Azimgarh. We can take the train to Jaunpore and thence dâk it on. The nearer to our destination the purer the air becomes, trees of respectable size take the place of stunted bushes, and from the overhanging branches troops of monkeys chatter a cheery

welcome. One of these, evidently the local wag, drops behind our ghari and throws Catherine wheels en veritable gamin.

A good friend, resident of this place, wants me to stay with him, but it won't do. The dâk bungalow is the right place for a barrister, where his clients can see him at all hours. Besides my friend has always got a new and strange wine for me to taste, whence result headache and weariness unutterable.

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Worthy Khuda Bux, once more let me taste your excellent mulligatawny, and the Seth will presently send round a dali of fresh vegetables; with these and some plantain fritters let a dinner fit for the Lard Sahib be served at eight o'clock.

The Seth is a dear old fellow, and as plucky as a bantam. How he braved the "Zaburdust collector Sahib," yea, appealed right away to the Government of India, is it not written in the memory of each dweller in the bazaar? And was not the "Ballishter

Sahib " his confidential adviser in that memorable conflict? Did not finally the angry official forget himself so far as to be rude in Court to the said Ballishter, for which he had to apologise openly, being, moreover, transferred to a meaner place? Oh, yes, the Seth and I have plenty to talk about.

Business over, come and visit the satin stores. Liberty knows them well. How do you like this piece of claret colour with the thin stripe of gold?

This yellow deserves more than one glance; a bit of colour this, worthy to be carried around like the celebrated æsthetic smelling bottle, but if you have a soul for green, what think you of these three shades? You may buy. I may not, as many yards will await my return, with the maker's compli

ments.

Now down to the bazaar to pick up some of the local pottery, black with silver tracery; brittle ware and cheap, but strangely

effective. Let us rummage through this man's old brass store, perchance a find may ensue. A melon-shaped vessel with wondrous design and finish rewards us. Six annas delight the seller thereof, which three guineas may not purchase now. One more search, and a Ganges lotah is unearthed. How many

fruitless prayers have been breathed down this narrow mouth? How many weary miles has the holy water been conveyed in this vessel? Swim on, ye well drawn fishes; dance, ye shapeless gods, around the lotah treasure trove. Henceforth shall ye decorate my humble home, and the sole pujah you shall hear, the languid voice of "Esthetic Bill," with his "how quite too-too," or shrillvoiced Ammurrican girl's "Oh say, ain't that puffickly bittiful?" I know not what she means. Azimgarh is as much Hindu as its neighbour Jounpore is Mahomedan; the state records will bear me out that the former has long been as orderly and well-to-do as the latter riotous and bankrupt. Whether

this remark can be applied to other places must be decided by wiser heads than mine.

THE COLONEL SHIKARS THE

DACOITS.

There are Dacoits and Dacoits; half-adozen starving wretches may in desperation rob a granary by night. Dacoity, my starving friends, and toko must be your portion, but the genuine article is a grim and unpleasant reality.

There had been a first-class dacoity in a village about twenty-five miles from Agra— a band of ruffians had rushed into the place, set fire to some houses, and looted right and left, but not being able to find where the local banker hid his wealth they seized the wretched man and tied his hand to a post, wrapped some rags round his fingers, poured oil on the rags and set fire to this ghastly torch. Having made a night of it the Dacoits retired into the Gwalior territory