Their course of proceeding is as follows: one of the fraternity, with all the humility of aspect which characterized Sterne’s monk, waits upon the traveller with a little present of milk, fruit, or a pot of tamarind preserve—the last, by the way, uncommonly good there—this, in a subdued tone, and with a low salaam, he tenders for acceptance, and at the same time produces for inspection a well-thumbed volume—of which it might truly be said, in the language of the Latin grammar, “_Qui color albus erat, nunc est contrarius albo_”—partly filled with names, doggrels, and generally abortive attempts at the facetious. In this the traveller is requested to record his name, the date of his visit, with the addition of as much epigram as he can conveniently squeeze out, or of any _extempore_ verses he may chance to have by him ready cut and dry for such occasions. Having made his literary contribution, and returned the valuable miscellany to its owner, in whose favour the traveller’s romantic feelings are perhaps warmly excited, particularly if, like me, a “_tazu wulait_” (literally, a fresh-imported European), with some St. Pierre-ish notions of the virtuous simplicity of Brahmins and Gentoos, he begins to discover, from the lingering, fidgety, expectant manner of his sacerdotal friend, that something remains to be done—in fact, that a more important contribution is required—and that the “_amor nummi_” is quite as rife in a grove on the banks of the Ganges as anywhere else in this lucre-loving world. On making this discovery, he disburses his rupee in a fume, and all his romantic ideas of hospitable Brahmins, primitive simplicity, children of nature, &c. &c., vanish into thin air. My friend the sub lent me a pony, and, accompanied by dogs, servants, and guns, we traversed a good deal of the surrounding country in search of game and the picturesque. The country, for miles around Currah, is thickly covered with the ruins of Mahomedan tombs, some of great size, and combining, with much diversity of form, considerable elegance and architectural beauty. Two or three of these, more striking than the rest, are erected over the remains of peers or saints; one of these latter is, I was told, Sheik Kummul ud Deen, a very holy man, who, doubtless, in his day rendered good service to the cause of Islam, by dint, probably, of that very cutting and convincing argument the _shumshere_.[50] The adjacent village of Kummulpore derives its name from him.