The spring on issuing from the rock forms a small pool. We found it absolutely crammed with fish from six to ten inches long. They looked, I thought, like spotted trout, except that the scales were like those of the salmon. These fish are held sacred, and most dire consequences are said to overtake the sacrilegist who should so far forget himself as to violate the sanctity of the pool of Pír Chhatta by feasting on its protected fish. We threw a few handfuls of grain into the pool to propitiate the saint, or his mean representative in the unwashed and unclad person of the hermit, who seemed no ways pleased at our unceremonious intrusion on his special domain. The surface of the pool was instantly a solid mass of fish, struggling for the grain, which disappeared in a marvellously short space of time. Whilst we thus amused ourselves, the hermit, probably fearful of our annexing a few of the fish for dinner, recounted some wonderful instances he knew of the agonised deaths produced by so rash an act. But he was eclipsed by an attendant orderly, who gravely assured us that a comrade of his—a trooper of the Sindh Irregular Horse—had on one occasion, when passing this way, taken one of these fish, cut it up, cooked, and eaten it. “And what happened?” angrily asked the hermit. “By the power of God,” he answered, “the wicked wretch was seized immediately after with the most excruciating pains in his internals. He rolled on the ground in agony, and repeated _tabas_ and _astaghfirullahs_ (repentances and God forgive me’s) without number, calling on all the saints and prophets to intercede for him.” “And then he died!” chimed in the hermit, with a triumphant air. “No,” said the other; “God is great, and, such is His mercy, he got up and went amongst the bushes, groaning and moaning with agony. Presently he returned quite another being, perfectly well and happy, with the fish alive in his hand, and upbraiding him for his want of faith and veneration, and directing its restoration to its own element.” “God’s ways are inscrutable,” said the hermit; adding, with ineffable pride, “our pure prophet heard his prayers, our blessed saint of this sacred spot interceded for him; God, the Almighty, accepted his repentance.” Our narrator admitted on interrogation that he was not an eye-witness of what he had just related, but he knew several men who were. After this example—and it is one by no means uncommon amongst Muhammadans in these countries—of audacity and credulity, we strolled back to our tents speculating upon the mental organisation of a people who could, without an attempt at question, accept such absurdities. The blind credulity of the Muhammadan in all that concerns his prophet and saints, their sayings and their doings, their precepts and examples, affords an interesting field for inquiry to the psychologist. Such investigation would, I believe, establish it as a fact that the obstinate yet passive resistance of Muhammedans to the free