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that we found that to this point we had been ascending one branch of the Matabunga, flowing westwards towards the Hooghly, but that the present was another, which reverted by a southerly course, and with greater rapidity, to the mighty Ganges, from which it at first had issued. Our sails were now useless, but so fine a stream promised our boatmen easy work with the tow-line. If, however, the poor fellows formed any such expectation, they were soon undeceived. They had, indeed, no occasion to urge the boat forwards: stern-foremost, or broad-side foremost, or whirling round and round like a reel, she was hurried on with more than sufficient rapidity. But they had · continually to bring her up short by main strength, or to jump into the water, and with long bamboos, or with their arms and shoulders, to stave her off, or push her over, different obstacles. This is not a peaceable stream like the one we had quitted, but hurries with it trees and bushes, and throwing up numerous sand-banks, between which our course was indeed very often narrow and perplexing, though in the bed of the river there was always a considerable depth of water, a circumstance which, obliging our boatmen to swim every ten or twenty yards, materially increased their labours. At the more difficult of these places we generally found a Mussulman fakir or two established, who came, or sometimes swam, to beg alms, pleading the efficacy of their prayers in getting us past the dangers; and supplying at the same time, in many instances, some useful hints as to the best course for our

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vessel, a service cheaply rewarded by a few pice, which indeed few would grudge, who are aware how often this is the sole resource of unfortunate boatmen, victims to disease or premature old age, brought on by the severity of their labours. Our own men, though all in the prime of youth, well fed, and with figures such as a statuary might delight to model after, themselves shewed too many symptoms of the ill effects occasioned by their constant vicissitudes of water, sun, and toil. The backs and limbs of many of them were scaly, as if with leprosy, and they spoke of this complaint as a frequent consequence of their way of life; though this particular eruption, they said, always left them if they remained any time at home, and re-appeared on their return to their aquatic labours. The same thing I have heard of among the boatmen of Madras, where it is, ignorantly enough, mistaken for a saline incrustation from the sea-water. Here the water is fresh, yet the same spectacle is presented, and must therefore, I suppose, be attributed to checked perspiration.

After advancing six or eight miles in this manner, sometimes banging on the sunken trees, sometimes scraping against sand-banks, but still trundling on at a rate faster than might have been expected, we arrived in a broad deep pool with unusually still water, on seeing which the Serang immediately brought to, and leapt on shore, exclaiming that we were near one of the difficult places. It was now about four o'clock, and the day pleasantly cool and cloudy, so that Stowe and

4

I followed his example, in the hope of seeing what was the obstacle. We found about 100 yards farther a regular dam of earth, sand, and clay, thrown up across the river (a quarter of a mile wide) by the force of this restless stream, which now struggled on through the impediments which it had itself raised, with great violence and impetuosity, through two narrow and irregular channels, with a considerable fall, into a lower and troubled, but still deep bason, some three feet below. No vessel larger than a jolly-boat could pass these channels in their present condition, and the question was whether we were to return up the rapid stream which we had descended, or get labourers to widen the most promising, though the narrowest, of these sluices. This was a question, however, very easily decided. The bank was evidently nothing but earth easily worked, and of which the rubbish would be as easily washed away by the stream, and I therefore sent Abdullah to Matabunga, the nearest village, with directions to find the Daroga first, or if he were not forthcoming, to hire work-people without delay. In the meantime I sat down to make a drawing of the scene before me, and to enjoy the delightful sound and coolness of the rushing water, as well as to observe the success of a crowd of people, men, women, and children, who covered every part of the bank, catching fish with long fish-spears, scoop and casting nets. In the use of these instruments they were very dexterous. I never in my life saw a net so thrown, either for the extent of water covered,

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the precision of aim, or the apparent absence of effort, as by one young man, a very little fellow too, who stood near us. To these people we had in the first instance applied to help us, but they excused themselves, saying they had no tools. They were indeed already very fully and profitably employed, since the water was teeming with fish of all sizes, and the young man whom I have mentioned told us that, at this time of year nothing was eaten but fish, and that every body might have it. He said that a few days ago there had been no passage here at all, for the river had been standing in tanks all the way to the "Burra Gunga," but that now the rains had once forced their way, they would soon widen the channel, and that some large vessels which he pointed out to us above and below the fall, had been waiting several days for this to happen, but that now they would get through at our expense. "Ucha oon ke waste." "Good for them," he added. At length Abdullah returned. No Daroga, however, lived nearer than the one we had left behind the day before, and the villagers refused to come on the plea that it was a Hindoo holiday. This objection he in part removed, by assuring them of good pay. One old man, indeed, urged that the Brahmins would curse them, but Abdullah gravely rejoined, "the curse be on me and mine," and eight men, being pretty nearly the whole effective force of the hamlet, came off with him. Seven of these were equipped with very large and heavy hoes (which are here universally used instead of the spade, and in a soil

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where there are no stones, are certainly very serviceable tools). The eighth had only his stick, but was, according to the strange usage of Bengal, where nobody can do any thing without a leader, the "sirdar," or master of the gang, without whom they would not work, and whom they allowed (voluntarily, since there is nothing but custom which makes them do so,) to receive their wages, and draw poundage on them in consideration of his superintendance. This number fell short of my wishes and expectations. They were, however, as good, dexterous, and diligent labourers as I ever saw. They got on at a great rate in the loose soil, and we had soon the pleasure to see that the stream worked almost as fast as they did. In fact, between five o'clock and nine, they had enlarged the channel so much as to make it almost certain that the stream in the night would do all which yet was necessary. I gave the men three anas each, including the sirdar. They were exceedingly grateful, and it was, indeed, I well knew, more than they expected. But they had worked very hard and willingly at an hour when few Hindoos can be prevailed on to touch a tool, and the latter part of the time up to their knees or middles in water. I bid them, however, come again in the morning at four o'clock lest they should be wanted. The country round these rapids (if they deserve the name) is really pretty, open, and cultivated, but interspersed with groves, and displaying as much variety as Bengal is susceptible of. We saw several tortoises swimming near the bar. On the bank we found a