the water at every angle, reminding us of the granaries and godowns
that were wont to be filled with the agricultural wealth of the
districts for miles around; hard metalled roads cut abruptly off, and
bridges with only half an arch, standing lonely and ruined half way in
the muddy current that swept noiselessly past the deserted city. It
was a scene of utter waste and desolation.

The lady I mentioned made me very welcome, and I was struck by her
unaffected cheerfulness and gentleness. She was a gentlewoman indeed,
and though reduced in circumstances, surrounded by misfortunes, and
daily and hourly reminded by the scattered wreck around her of her
former wealth and position, she bore all with exemplary fortitude, and
to the full extent of her scanty means she relieved the sorrows and
ailments of the natives. They all loved and respected, and I could not
help admiring and honouring her.

She pointed out to me, far away on the south-east horizon, the place
where the river ran in its shallow channel when she first came to
Nathpore. During her experience it had cut into and overspread more
than twenty miles of country, turning fertile fields into arid wastes
of sand; sweeping away factories, farms, and villages; and changing
the whole face of the country from a fruitful landscape into a
wilderness of sand and swamp.

My horse came up in the evening, and I rode over to Inamputte,
leaving my kindly hostess in her solitude.

CHAPTER XXV.

Exciting jungle scene.--The camp.--All quiet.--Advent of the cowherds.
--A tiger close by.--Proceed to the spot.--Encounter between tigress
and buffaloes.--Strange behaviour of the elephant.--Discovery and
capture of four cubs.--Joyful return to camp.--Death of the tigress.
--Night encounter with a leopard.--The haunts of the tiger and our
shooting grounds.

One of the most exciting and deeply interesting scenes I ever
witnessed in the jungles, was on the occasion I have referred to in a
former chapter, when speaking of the number of young given by the
tigress at a birth. It was in the month of March, at the village of
Ryseree, in Bhaugulpore. I had been encamped in the midst of
twenty-four beautiful tanks, the history and construction of which
were lost in the mists of tradition. The villagers had a story that
these tanks were the work of a mighty giant, Bheema, with whose aid
and that of his brethren they had been excavated in a single night.

At all events, they were now