Here and there, in front of a hut, mantled with its creeping gourd, would appear the milk-white cow or petted calf, picketed by the nose, and munching his _boosa_[15] under the cool shade of the tamarind or plantain, whilst kids and goats, in various picturesque attitudes, sunned themselves on the ruined wall or prostrate tree. Sometimes we came on fishermen, in their _dingies_, or canoes, with outspread nets catching the much-prized _hilsa_;[16] or we looked on the dark peasantry in the green rice-fields, engaged beneath a fervid sun in their various rural occupations. Occasionally we came suddenly upon a market, with its congregated fleet of boats, and its busy, squabbling assemblage of villagers, fish, grain, and vegetable venders, &c.; or a thannah, or police station, would break into view, known by its picturesque burkundazes lounging about in front, armed with spears or tulwars, and the portly, bearded thannahdar, _en déshabille_, smoking his _kulian_ under the projecting thatch of the entrance. The novelty of the scene, so truly un-English and Oriental, delighted me, and my heart bounded with joy from a feeling of vitality and freedom. At length we began to approach those vast forests, called the Sunderbunds,[17] stretching for two or three hundred miles across the delta of the Ganges, and through a considerable part of which our route lay. The vicinity of this wild tract was indicated by the gradual termination of the cultivated country, and the commencement of the half-reclaimed lands on the borders, presenting to the view stumps of trees, patches of jungle, and some paddy fields, occasionally a few scattered huts, with their sickly inhabitants huddled around them. The boatmen being somewhat exhausted, and the tide on the turn, Mr. Capsicum ordered them to drop anchor in the stream not far from the shore, that they might refresh themselves. It was a curve in the river where we brought to, deep and broad, and remote from the habitations of men. The lazy dark tide rolled slowly on, its movement barely indicated by a slight set in the current, with here and there a few tiny curling whirlpools, which seemed to my imagination to tell of the fearful depths and frightful monsters below. An open spot of green sward approached the bank on one side, whilst beyond this, on both banks, the huge trees of the sombre forest hung darkling over the Stygian stream—here emerging into light, as from a realm of dolorous shade which might have daunted Rinaldo himself.