Hindoos climb up every morning and evening, making incisions in the stem and hanging pots underneath to catch the sap which oozes out.  The rough condition of the bark facilitates considerably the task of climbing up the tree.  The Hindoos tie a strong cord round the trunk and their own body, and another round their feet, which they fix firmly against the tree; they then raise themselves up, drawing the upper rope with their hands and the lower one with the points of their feet, after them.  I have seen them climb the highest trees in this manner with the greatest ease in two minutes at the most.  Round their bodies they have a belt, to which are suspended a knife and one or two small jars.

The sap is at first quite clear, and agreeably sweet, but begins, in six or eight hours’ time, to ferment, and then assumes a whitish tint, while its flavour becomes disagreeably acid.  From this, with the addition of some rice, is manufactured strong arrack.  A good tree will yield above a gallon of this sap in four-and-twenty hours, but during the year in which the sap is thus extracted, it bears no fruit.

21st December.  About 80 miles below Rajmahal, we passed three rather steep rocks rising out of the Ganges.  The largest is about sixty feet high; the next in size, which is overgrown with bushes, is the residence of a Fakir, whom the true believers supply with provisions.  We could not see the holy man, as it was beginning to grow dark as we passed.  This, however, did not cause us so much regret, as that we were unable to visit the Botanical Garden at Bogulpore, which is said to be the finest in all India; but as there was no coal depot at Bogulpore, we did not stop.

On the 22nd of December, we passed the remarkable mountain scenery of Junghera, which rises, like an island of rocks, from the majestic Ganges.  This spot was, in former times, looked on as the holiest in the whole course of the river.  Thousands of boats and larger vessels were constantly to be seen there, as no Hindoo believed he could die in peace without having visited the place.  Numerous Fakirs had established themselves here, strengthening the poor pilgrims with unctuous exhortations, and taking in return their pious gifts.  The neighbourhood has, however, at present, lost its reputation for sanctity, and the offerings received are scarcely sufficient to maintain two or three Fakirs.

In the evening we stopped near Monghyr, {160a} a tolerably large town, with some old fortifications.  The most conspicuous object is a cemetery, crowded with monuments.  The monuments are so peculiar, that had I not seen similar ones in the cemeteries of Calcutta, I should never have imagined that they belonged to any sect of Christians.  There were temples, pyramids, immense catafalques, kiosks, etc., all massively built of tiles.  The extent of this cemetery is quite disproportioned to the number of Europeans in Monghyr; but the place is said to be the most unhealthy in India, so that when a European is ordered there for any number of years, he generally takes a last farewell of all his friends.