of the Old World. 143 



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 con- 

 gregate 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 pilgrims by working upon 

 their credulity and superstitious 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 exposure 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 inquest, 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 gal ley nippers. 



I was sitting, after dinner one evening, in the 

 verandah of the mess-house, conversing with three or 



