December 16, 1849.—­Nawabgunge, eight miles, over a plain of the same good soil, but not much better cultivated.  The people tell me, that garden tillage is now almost unknown in these districts; first, because kachies or gardeners (here called moraes) having been robbed, ruined, and driven into exile by Rughbur Sing, cannot be induced to return to and reside in places, where they would have so little chance of reaping the fruits of their labour; and, secondly, because there are no people left who can afford to purchase their garden produce.  They tell me also, that the best classes of ordinary cultivators, the Koormies and Lodhees, have been almost all driven out of the district from the same cause.  The facts are manifest—­ there are no gardeners, and but few Koormies and Lodhees left; and there is, in consequence, little good tillage of any kind, and still less of garden cultivation.

The Rajah of Bulrampoor and Ramdut Pandee, the banker, rode with me, and related the popular tradition regarding the head of the Kulhuns family of Rajpoots, Achul Sing, who, about a century and a quarter ago, reigned over the district intervening between Gonda and Wuzeer Gunge, and resided at his capital of Koorassa.  The Rajah had a dispute with one of his landholders, whom he could not get into his power.  He requested Rutun Pandee, the banker, to mediate a reconciliation, and invite the landholder to an amicable adjustment of accounts, on a pledge of personal security.  The banker consented, but made the Rajah swear by the River Sarjoo, which flowed near the town, that he should be received with courtesy, and escorted back safely.  The landholder relied on the banker’s pledge and came; but the Rajah no sooner got him into his power, than he caused him to be put to death.  The banker could not consent to live under the dishonour of a violated pledge; and, abstaining from food, died in twenty-one days, invoking the vengeance of the River Sarjoo, on the head of the perfidious Prince.  In his last hours the banker was visited by one of the Rajah’s wives, who was then pregnant, and implored him to desist from his purpose in mercy to the child in her womb; but she was told by the dying man, that he could not consent to survive the dishonour brought upon him by her perjured husband; and that she had better quit the place and save herself and child, since the incensed river Sarjoo would certainly not spare any one who remained with the Rajah.  She did so.  The banker died, and his death was followed by a sudden rise of the river and tempest.  The town was submerged, and the Rajah with all who remained with him perished.  The ruins of the old town are said to be occasionally still visible, though at a great depth under the water in the old bed of the Sarjoo, which forms a fine lake, near the present village of Koorassa, midway between Gonda and Wuzeer Gunge.