Chapter VIII. 
TILLERS OF THE SOIL. 
THIS day opened with deep mist, 
filling all the valleys and veiling 
the hills ; but by degrees it with- 
drew, and a cloudy sky and a cool moist breeze invited 
me out for a long prowl. The first thing that caught 
my eye was a very common thing on Indian roads, and 
a vulgar thing, not to be mentioned by name among us, 
though to the Hindoos it is in a manner sacred. But 
the naturalist, like the farmer, must not be proud. 
“ Ne saturare fimo pingui pudeat sola &c. 
So I stooped down to note this little cumulus fimi 
pinguis , for there was one thing about it worthy to be 
G 
