In such a climate and during the hot winds, you cannot imagine how delightful the noise of the wind (like rain) in the old peepul appeared to us, or the lullaby it formed. It is a holy tree, every leaf being the seat of a god. They do not listen to the music of its rustling with greater pleasure than I experience; indeed, my penchant for the tree is so great, I am half inclined to believe in its miraculous powers.
August 31st.—The ice has lasted four months and fifteen days, which we consider particularly fortunate. It was opened the 15th of April.
Oct.—We are collecting grass and making hay for use during the hot winds. The people cut the grass in the jungles, and bring it home on camels. We have one stack of hay just finished, and one of straw.
"Bring me the silver tankard." "I have it not, I know not where it is," said the khidmatgār. The plate-chest was searched, it was gone.
It was the parting gift of a friend; we would not have lost it for fifty times its value. The servants held a panchāyat, and examined the man who had charge of the plate. When it was over, he came to me, saying, "I had charge of the tankard—it is gone—the keys were in my hands; allow me to remain in your service; cut four rupees a month from my pay, and let another silver cup be made." The old man lived with us many years, and only quitted us when he thought his age entitled him to retire on the money he had earned honestly and fairly in service.
My tame squirrel has acquired a vile habit of getting up the windows and eating all the flies; if he would kill the musquitoes, it would be a very good employment, but he prefers the great fat flies—a little brute. The little squirrel is the only animal unaffected by the heat; he is as impudent as ever, and as cunning as possible.
Oct. 24th.—A slight earthquake has just taken place—this instant. I did not know what was the matter; there was a rumbling noise for some time, as if a carriage were driving over the roof of the house. My chair shook under me, and the
