178 THE HUNTING GEOUNDS 



myself with talking to some handsome Mussiil- 

 mauni damsels who constantly passed to and fro^ 

 as they went to draw water from a ghaut on the 

 Godavery river, when a venerable-looking old man 

 with a huge silver beard rolling down his chest, 

 and clad in a fakeer's or dervish's garb, came up 

 leading a chestnut mare, and accosting me with the 

 usual salutation, begged " Aallah ka nam se " (in 

 the name of Allah) that I would assist him. He 

 evidently took me to be one of the " Faithful," 

 for besides speaking the language fluently, I wore 

 a native dress, consisting of a muslin ungreka, 

 embroidered silk long-drawers and turban, and 

 my naturally dark complexion was considerably 

 deepened by constant exposure to the sun. He 

 told me that he had given up the world, i.e., his 

 wives and family, and had devoted the remainder 

 of his days to the service of Mohammed, but that 

 lately " dark clouds had been hanging over' the 

 garden of his fate, and the hlossoms of hope were 

 almost withered." He was en route from Bore- 

 gaum on the Wurdah river to Hydrabad, in order 

 to be present at the Mohrum festival in that famous 

 Mussulman capital, but he had been detained by 

 illness on the road, his cash was nearly gone, and 

 moreover, the back of his mare, which had been 

 presented to him by the Oomraootee Nawab, on 

 the occasion of his son's recovery from illness, was 

 so galled that he could not ride her, and did not 

 know how to proceed on his journey. 



