136 THE HUNTING GROUNDS 



upon an island formed by the division of the stream, 

 is the celebrated temple of Seringam, the outside 

 wall of which contains an area of more than a 

 mile square. It is the very hotbed of Brahminism, 

 and here congregate from all parts of the south of 

 India those fat, lazy, greasy cumberers of the earth, 

 who live upon clover, by the sweat of other men's 

 brows, and thrive and grow rich upon the offerings 

 which they wring from poor deluded Hindoo pil- 

 grims by working upon their credulity and supersti- 

 tious fears. 



It was in the latter end of the month of April, and 

 our old stagers declared they had never felt anything 

 like the heat. We were all nearly baked, and, as old 



Paddy S , of the — th, used to say, " looked like 



carefully dried resuscitated mummies ;" for our faces 

 were burnt almost coffee-colour from constant ex- 

 posure to the sun whilst out snipe-shooting. 



I felt thoroughly disgusted and worn out with 

 the changeless monotony of an Indian garrison life, 

 and was heartily sick of parades, drills, guard- 

 mountings, inspections, courts-martial, courts of in- 

 quest, inquiry, request, committees, meetings, and 

 boards of every kind. Mainguard and regimental 

 duty seemed to come round oftener than usual, and 

 nothing was stirring except the mosquitos, which 

 are one of the plagues of India, and those of Trichy 

 are celebrated as galleynippers. 



I was sitting, after dinner one evening, in the 

 verandah of the mess-house, conversing with three 



