=An Atīt Hermit.=—On the summit of the rock, across the narrow valley, several _guphas_, or caves, the abode of the hermit Atit,[4.27.37] were in sight. How the brains of these ascetics can stand the heat and confined air is a wonder, though, if they possessed any portion of that which is supposed to be necessary to the guidance of the machine, they would scarcely occupy such a position, nor consequently, the world’s attention. _Mais tout est vanité_, a cause which has produced ten times the number of saints that piety has, and ten times of ten these troglodyte philosophers. Having walked out on the terrace or house-top of the palace, to catch a sunbeam and scare away an ague which tormented me, I discovered one of these animals coiled up on a heap of bat’s dung [732], in a corner of an apartment of the palace. He was dreadfully emaciated, and but for the rolling of a pair of eyes in a visage covered with hair, there was nothing which betokened animation, much less humanity. There was none but the bat to dispute his reign, or “the spider which weaves its web in this palace of the Caesars.” I had no inclination to disturb the process of ratiocination, or to ask to which sect of philosophers belonged this Diogenes of Mandor, who might, if he had utterance, have desired me to walk downstairs, and not intercept the sunbeam for whose warmth we were competitors. The day was now nearly departed, and it was time for me to return to my friends in camp. I finished the evening by another visit to the knights of the desert; and inscribing my name on the foot of ‘Black Caesar,’ bade adieu to the ancient Mandor. [Illustration: RĀMDEO RĀTHOR. PĀBUJI, MOUNTED ON KESAR KĀLI. Rock Sculptures at Mandor. _To face page 846._ ]