He got intimation, and assembled his friends to the number of five thousand.  I had not half the number.  We fought till he lost seventy men, and I had thirty killed and fifteen wounded.  He then fled to the jungles, and I levelled his fort with the ground.  He continued, however, to plunder, and at last seized the bridegroom and all the marriage party, and took them to his bivouac in the jungles.  The family was very respectable, and made application to me, and I was obliged to restore him to his estate, where he has lived ever since in peace.  I attacked him in November 1848, and he took off the marriage party in February following.”  “But,” said a poor hackery driver, who was running along by my side, and had yesterday presented me a petition, “you forgot to get back my two carts and bullocks which he still keeps, and uses for his own purpose, though I have been importuning you ever since.”  “And what did he do to you when he got you into the jungles?” “He tied up and flogged all who seemed respectable, and worth something—­such as merchants and shopkeepers—­and poked them with red-hot ramrods till they paid all they could get, and promised to use all the influence and wealth of their families to force the Amil to restore him to his estate on his own terms.”  “And were the parties married after their release?” “Yes, sir, we were released in April, after the Amil had been made to consent to his terms; and they were married in May; but I could not get back my two carts.”  “And on what terms did you restore this Imam Buksh to his estate?” “I granted him a lease, sir,” said the Amil, “at the same rate of five thousand rupees a-year which he had paid before."*

[* This Imam Buksh, in April, 1850, went in disguise to the annual fair held at Bahraetch, in honour of the old saint.  He was recognized by some of Captain Bunbury’s soldiers, who attempted to seize him.  He was armed with sword, spear, and shield, and defended himself as long as he could.  Seeing no chance of escape, he plunged both sword and spear into his own belly, and died, though Captain Bunbury came up, had his wounds sewn up, and did all he could to save him.]

Stopping to talk with the peasantry of a village who had come out to the roadside to pay their respects and see the procession, I asked them how, amidst such crimes and disorders, they could preserve their crops so well.  “Sir,” said they, “we find it very difficult and expensive to do so, and shall find it still more so when the crops are cut and stacked, or have been threshed and stored; then these gangs of robbers have it all their own way, and burn and plunder all over the country; we are obliged to spend all we have in maintaining watchmen for our fields.”  “But the pausee bowmen have an allowance for this duty, have they not?” “Yes, sir, they have all an allowance.  Every cultivator, when he cuts his crop, leaves a certain portion standing for the pausee who has guarded it, and this we call his Bisar.  Over and above