land; that the whole district was, indeed, a garden.”  “But the returns, are they equal to those from your lands in Oude?”—­“Nothing like it, sir; they are not half as good; nor can the cultivator afford to pay half the rate that we pay when left to till our lands in peace.”  “And why is this?”—­“Because, sir, ours is sometimes left waste to recover its powers, as you now see all the land around you, while theirs has no rest” “But do they not alternate their crops, to relieve the soil?”—­“Yes, sir, but this is not enough:  ours receive manure from the herds of cattle and deer that graze upon it while fallow:  and we have greater stores of manure than they have, to throw over it when we return and resume our labours.  We alternate our crops, at the same time, as much as they do; and plough and cross-plough our lands more.”  “And where would you rather live—­there, protected as the people are from all violence, or here, exposed as you are to all manner of outrage and extortion.”—­ “We would rather live here, sir, if we could; and we were glad to come back.”  “And why?  There the landholders and cultivators are sure that no man will be permitted to exact a higher rate of rent or revenue than that which they voluntarily bind themselves to pay during the period of a long lease; while here you are never sure that the terms of your lease will be respected for a single season.”—­ “That is all true, sir, but we cannot understand the ’aen and kanoon’ (the rules and regulations), nor should we ever do so; for we found that our relations, who had been settled there for many generations, were just as ignorant of them as ourselves.  Your Courts of justice (adawluts) are the things we most dread, sir; and we are glad to escape from them as soon as we can, in spite of all the evils we are exposed to on our return to the place of our birth.  It is not the fault of the European gentlemen who preside over them, for they are anxious to do, and have justice done, to all; but, in spite of all their efforts, the wrong-doer often escapes, and the sufferer is as often punished.”

“The truth, sir, is seldom told in these Courts.  There they think of nothing but the number of witnesses, as if all were alike; here, sir, we look to the quality.  When a man suffers wrong, the wrong-doer is summoned before the elders, or most respectable men of his village or clan; and if he denies the charge and refuses redress, he is told to bathe, put his hand upon the peepul-tree, and declare aloud his innocence.  If he refuses, he is commanded to restore what he has taken, or make suitable reparation for the injury he has done; and if he refuses to do this, he is punished by the odium of all, and his life becomes miserable.  A man dares not, sir, put his hand upon that sacred tree and deny the truth—­the gods sit in it and know all things; and the offender dreads their vengeance.  In your adawluts, sir, men do not tell the truth so often as they do among their own tribes, or village