Belehree, held by Abud Allee, consists of forty villages, pays a revenue of twelve thousand rupees a-year, and yields a rent-roll of forty thousand.  Abud Allee holds also the estate of Pyntee, in the same district, consisting of eighty villages, paying a revenue of thirty-five thousand, and yielding a rent-roll of one hundred and forty thousand.  It had been held by his relative Kazim Allee, who was succeeded in the possession by Nizam Allee, the husband of his only daughter.  Nizam Allee was in A.D. 1841 killed by a servant, who was cut down and killed in return by his attendants.  Nizam Allee’s widow held till 1843, when she made over the estate to Abud Allee, by whom she is supported.

Nawab Allee has always money at command to purchase influence at Court when required; and he has also a brave and well-armed force, with which to aid the governor of the district, when he makes it worth his while to do so, in crushing a refractory landholder.  These are the sources of his power, and he is not at all scrupulous in the use of it—­it is not the fashion to be so in Oude.

February 20th, 1850.—­Came on sixteen miles to Futtehpore, in the estate of Nawab Allee, passing Mahmoodabad half way.  Near that place we passed through a grove of mango and other trees called the “Lak Peree,” or the grove of a hundred thousand trees planted by his ancestors forty years ago.  The soil is the same, the country level, studded with the same rich foliage, and covered with the same fine crops.  As we were passing through his estate, and were to encamp in it again to-day, Nawab Allee attended me on horseback; and I endeavoured to impress upon him and the Nazim the necessity of respecting the rights of others, and more particularly those of the old Chowdheree Pertab Sing.  “Why is it,” I asked, “that this beautiful scene is not embellished by any architectural beauties?  Sheikh Sadee, the poet, so deservedly beloved by you all, old and young, Hindoos and Mahommedans, says, ’The man who leaves behind him in any place, a bridge, a well, a church, or a caravansera, never dies.’  Here not even a respectable dwelling-house is to be seen, much less a bridge, a church, or a caravansera.”  “Here, sir,” said old Bukhtawur, “men must always be ready for a run to the jungles.  Unless they are so, they can preserve nothing from the grasp of the contractors of the present day, who have no respect for property or person—­for their own character, or for that of their sovereign.  The moment that a man runs to save himself, family, and property, they rob and pull down his house, and those of all connected with him.  When a man has nothing but mud walls, with invisible mud covers, they give him no anxiety; he knows that he can build them up again in a few days, or even a few hours, when he comes back from the jungles; and he cares little about what is done to them during his absence.  Had he an expensive house of burnt brick and mortar, he could never feel quite free.  He might be tempted to defend it, and lose some valuable lives; or he might be obliged to submit to unjust terms.  Were he to lay out his money in expensive mosques, temples, and tombs, they would restrain him in the same way; and he is content to live without them, and have his loins always girded for fight or flight.”