As I am on the subject of harpooning, I may here mention a somewhat similar mode in which the natives catch the mullets. These fish, the most delicious and highly prized of the Ganges, swim in shoals in the shallows, with their heads partly above the surface of the water: the shape of which, by the way, and position of the large eyes, give them much the appearance of serpents—indeed, the first I saw, I took for a brood of water-snakes. The dandie, or fisherman, whoever the sportsman may be, follows them in a crouching attitude, having in his hand a long light bamboo, terminating in a number of unbarbed spikes, fastened on like the head of a painting brush; and when within striking distance, he launches this slantingly amongst the shoal, transfixing one or two fish, perhaps, whilst the rest dive or swim off, and soon re-appear with their heads as before, above the water, and slowly stemming the current. I used to watch this operation with great interest, but could never make anything of it myself, though I often essayed. The fort of Monghyr is of vast extent, though the walls are now in a decayed and dilapidated state; within the wide area are tanks, bungalows, and some fine houses on rising grounds, commanding fine views of the ruins, and the distant woods and hills, which latter here present a rather bold and serrated outline. A few days more, and we were gliding past the great Mahomedan city of Patna, and in a short time after we found ourselves moored off the military cantonment of Dinapore—a second edition of Burhampore—and the station of a brigade of troops, European and native. Here are two fine squares of officers’ quarters and barracks, with numerous bungalows to the rear of them, somewhat similar in their disposition and appearance to those at Burhampore. Here, as I before mentioned, I was destined to part with my kind and amiable companions, who were engaged to visit a friend at Patna for a month before proceeding to their ultimate destination. Our leave-taking was marked by unequivocal proofs that we had become dear to one another; and both gave me little tokens of their remembrance. CHAPTER XXII. On the evening of my arrival at Dinapore, I was sitting on the roof of my boat, observing the _dobees_, or washermen, thumping their clothes, natives cleaning their teeth with primitive tooth-brushes of stick, and other similar sights which diversify the animating scene of an Indian ghaut, when the distant and inspiring strains of a full military band broke upon my ear. “Egad!” thought I, “there’s some fun going on; a promenade, no doubt, with all the beauty and fashion of Dinapore assembled; I’ll go and see.”