matted over their heads, and hanging down to their shoulders; their bodies of dark brown, entirely naked, with the exception of a cloth round the waist, which passes between the limbs. They jump overboard, and swim ashore with a rope between their teeth, and their towing-stick in one hand, just like dogs,—river dogs; the water is their element more than the land. If they want any clothes on shore they carry them on the top of their heads, and swim to the bank in that fashion. The mem sāhiba's river dogs; they do not drink strong waters; and when I wish to delight them very much, I give them two or three rupees' worth of sweetmeats, cakes of sugar and ghee made in the bazār; like great babies, they are charmed with their meetai, as they call it, and work away willingly for a mem sāhiba who makes presents of sweetmeats and kids.
Saw the first wolf to-day; I wish we were at Etaweh,—to anchor here is detestable: if we were there I should be reading my letters, and getting in supplies for Agra. How I long to reach the goal of my pilgrimage, and to make my salām to the "Tāj beebee ke rauza," the mausoleum of the lady of the Tāj!
