GUJARÁT
AND
THE GUJARÁTIS.
INTRODUCTION.
Permit me, gentle reader, to briefly explain the genesis of this little book. Starting on my pilgrimage in the too early twilight of life's day, I have often stumbled into dry nulláhs[1]—very dry and dismal, and with very steep sides. And in groping my way to reach the other side, I have badly barked my shins. But it is matter for thankfulness to be able to say that in none of my stumbles have I broken any bones. However bad the fall, I have always managed to pick myself up; and, with the rope thrown by friendly hands, have struggled up the stony hill-side. These "roughs and tumbles" of life have become
- ↑ Empty water-courses.
