There were magnificent mountain scenes, with piles of Gháts on all sides; the points went out into the air with a fall of four thousand feet into the Konkan, and the ravines are wild and jagged. Sívaji, born in 1627, was one of the greatest leaders of light cavalry ever known. His character was fiery, and fascinated all bold adventurers. He formed a large body of wild horsemen, whom he led to great military enterprises, and at his death left a kingdom four hundred miles long by a hundred and twenty broad, though only a subject of the Rajah of Bijapur, with whom he broke faith. On yonder eminence is Purtabghur, where this Sívaji, the founder of the Maharatta Empire, murdered the Moslem General, Afzul Khan, in a disgraceful manner; whilst embracing him he stabbed him with a dagger, called _waghnak_, a thing like a tiger-claw, worn on the hand like a knuckle-duster. The village of Máhábáleshwar is a Brahm settlement, where five rivers in the dry and seven in the wet season arise; this is the Krishna source, and these Maharattas are a very fine race. We went to Lingmálá, where lie utterly neglected plantations of quinine (cinchona). Why! when quinine is so dear? At nine a.m. the sun is too hot; at five begins the cool afternoon. At nightfall a horror of deep gloom settles upon the world up there. The sun is as hot as Sind, the nights are cold. Here we again found the Petersons. We went off to look at the iron mines; this is the best iron, from which all the Damascus and Khorasán blades were made. It is soft and pliable, and when the blade is made they harden it. Richard brought away a lump of the iron, and Mr. Joyner, C.E., has since had it made into an inkstand as a remembrance, which always stood on Richard's writing-table, and which I keep now as a treasure. The bridle-paths, and the shady dingly walks of Mátherán, are far better than the broad carriage-roads of Máhábáleshwar, that, in spite of the lovely green, give you no shade. Besides, Society is always on duty up there. Tall carriages instead of basket chairs, and sables capped with black chimney-pots, look queer in the wild woods. There is none of the _abandon_ of the country.