He dives into the Eastern mind, and shows you that the moment you begin to intrigue with an Oriental, he has you on his own ground, he beats you with your own weapons, and that the only way that you have the Oriental at _your_ mercy is by being perfectly straightforward and honest. He shows you what value they set on good manners. Then we visit the field of Meanee. He describes the brisk way that Sir Charles Napier fought--a fierce _mêlée_, no quarter asked or given. He said the way to fight an Indian battle is to shake the enemy's line with a hot fire of artillery, charge home with infantry, and when a slight hesitation begins, to throw all your cavalry at the opposing ranks, and the battle is ended. Such was the battle of Meanee, when our 2800 thrashed 22,000 men. He greatly blames the yielding up of Afghanistan. Then we go to Husri, where, in old days, he surveyed and amused himself with cock-fighting--the scene of the death of "Bhujang," his favourite cock--and from thence to Sudderan Column, from whence he visited Mir Ibrahim Khan Talpur's village;[3] and then he goes on to the "Jats" country (the Gypsies), with whom he affiliated himself, and where he worked with the camel-men, levelling canals in the old days. Then we go on to Badhá and Unarpúr, Lakrá, and Sibt, wells in the desert, and here he translated the tale of Bári and Isa (Jesus). Whilst among the Belochs he wrote-- "THE TALE OF BÁRI AND ISA. "Give ear, O ye sons of the Beloch, Whilst I recount to you a true tale! As Isa, the prophet of Allah, Was travelling, Fakir-like, over the earth, Seeing its wonders and its wastes, He came into a desert land Where no river nor Káríz was, Nor green fields, nor waving crops. Dreadful mountains rose on all four sides Round a plain of sand and flint, On which stood a stump (of tree) one cubit high, And propped against it sat Bári, the hermit, Meditating, with his shroud[4] over his head, Upon the might of Rabb Ta'álá.[5] Isa considered him awhile, Then, advancing, he touched his shoulder, Saying, 'Tell me truly, how dost thou live? What eatest thou in this grainless place, And what drinkest thou where no water is?' Bári raised his head from his breast; He was old and stone blind, His knees were sore by continued kneeling. And his bones, through fasting, pierced his skin. Yet his heart was as the life of the seed That dwells in a withered home.[6] He comprehended the question, and thus replied, Weeping and exclaiming, 'Wá wailá![7] How can man doubt the Creator's might? Sit down by me for awhile, I show thee the power of Allah.' Then the stump shot up till it became A noble towering tree; At morning prayers it began to grow, And (presently) shadowed the ground beneath. At midday berries appeared upon it, Hanging in festoons like the young brab's fruit.