I have conversed with a remarkably devout person, on the numerous extraordinary stories related of Maadhaar’s life, and the subsequent influence of his tomb.  He told me that women can never, with safety to themselves, enter the mausoleum containing his ashes; they are immediately seized with violent pains as if their whole body was immersed in flames of fire.  I spoke rather doubtingly on this subject, upon which he assured me that he had known instances of one or two women who had imprudently defied the danger, and intruded within the mausoleum, when their agony was extreme, and their sufferings for a long time protracted, although they eventually recovered.

Another still more remarkable circumstance has been related to me by the Natives, for the truth of which I cannot venture to vouch, although I have no reason to doubt the veracity of the narrators.

’A party of foreigners, encamped near the fair, wished to see what was going on at this far-famed mayllah, and for the purpose of gratifying their curiosity, halted on a certain day in the vicinity of the Durgah, when the place was much thronged by the various pilgrims to that shrine.  The party dined in their tent, but drank more wine than was consistent with propriety, and one was particularly overcome.  When they sallied forth, at the close of the day, to visit this saint’s tomb, their approach was observed by the keepers, who observing how very unfit the strangers appeared to enter the sanctuary of other men’s devotions,—­the hallowed ground that was by them respected,—­the head-keeper very civilly advanced as they moved towards the entrance, requesting that they would desist from entering in their apparent condition, contrary to the rules of the place and people.  The convivial party then drew back, without contesting the point, excepting the one most disguised in liquor, who asserted his right to enter wherever and whenever he thought good, nor would he be controlled by any man in India.

’The keepers spoke very mildly to the tipsy foreigner, and would have persuaded him he was doing wrong, but he was not in a state to listen to any argument dissuading him from his determined purpose; they warned him that a severe punishment must follow his daring, as he pushed past them and reeled into the mausoleum, triumphing at his success.  He had approached the tomb, when he was immediately seized with trembling, and sank senseless on the floor; his friends without, observing his situation, advanced and were assisted by the keepers in removing the apparently inanimate body to the open air:  water was procured, and after considerable delay, returning symptoms of life were discovered.  When able to speak, he declared himself to be on the eve of death, and in a few short hours he breathed his last.’  The unhappy man may have died of apoplexy.