The bhoots, or ghosts, are popularly supposed to have favourite haunts, generally in some specially selected tree; the neem tree is supposed to be the most patronised.  The most intelligent natives share this belief with the poorest and most ignorant; they fancy the ghosts throw stones at them, cast evil influences over them, lure them into quicksands, and play other devilish tricks and cantrips.  Some roads are quite shunned and deserted at night, for no other reason than that a ghost is supposed to haunt the place.  The most tempting bribe would not make a native walk alone over that road after sunset.

Besides the witchfinder, another important village functionary who relies much on muntras and charms, is the Huddick, or cow doctor.  He is the only veterinary surgeon of the native when his cow or bullock dislocates or breaks a limb, or falls ill.  The Huddick passes his hands over the affected part, and mutters his muntras, which have most probably descended to him from his father.  Usually knowing a little of the anatomical structure of the animal, he may be able to reduce a dislocation, or roughly to set a fracture; but if the ailment be internal, a draught of mustard oil, or some pounded spices and turmeric, or neem leaves administered along with the muntra, are supposed to be all that human skill and science can do.

The natives are cruel to animals.  Half-starved bullocks are shamefully overworked.  When blows fail to make the ill-starred brute move, they give a twist and wrench to the tail, which must cause the animal exquisite torture, and unless the hapless beast be utterly exhausted, this generally induces it to make a further effort.  Ploughmen very often deliberately make a raw open sore, one on each rump of the plough-bullock.  They goad the poor wretch on this raw sore with a sharp-pointed stick when he lags, or when they think he needs stirring up.  Ponies, too, are always worked far too young; and their miserable legs get frightfully twisted and bent.  The petty shopkeepers, sellers of brass pots, grain, spices, and other bazaar wares, who attend the various bazaars, or weekly and bi-weekly markets, transport their goods by means of these ponies.

The packs of merchandise are slung on rough pack-saddles, made of coarse sacking.  Shambling along with knees bent together, sores on every joint, and frequently an eye knocked out, the poor pony’s back gets cruelly galled; when the bazaar is reached, he is hobbled as tightly as possible, the coarse ropes cutting into the flesh, and he is then turned adrift to contemplate starvation on the burnt-up grass.  Great open sores form on the back, on which a plaster of moist clay, or cowdung and pounded leaves, is roughly put.  The wretched creature gets worn to a skeleton.  A little common care and cleanliness would put him right, with a little kindly consideration from his brutal master, but what does the Kulwar or Bunneah care? he is too lazy.