In returning from the pilgrimage our traveller saw that sacred cypress-tree the leaves of which never fall, or if they do, drop off so seldom that it is thought that the person who finds one and eats it will return again to the blooming season of youth, however old he may be. When Ibn Batūta passed by the tree, he saw several Jogees beneath it, watching for the dropping of a leaf; but whether they ever tasted of the joys of rejuvenescence, or quickened the passage of their souls into younger bodies, he does not inform us. Returning thence to Battalā, he embarked on board the same ship which had conveyed him to Ceylon, and departed for Maabar. During the voyage, short as it was, a storm arose which endangered the ship, and put their lives in jeopardy; but they were saved by the bravery of the Hindoo pilots, who put out in their small frail boats, and brought them to land. He was received by his relation, the Sultan Ghietheddin, with great honour and distinction; but this prince being then engaged in war, for the vicissitudes and dangers of which our traveller had never any particular predilection, he departed on a visit to the Rajah of Hinaur. Passing on his way through the city of Fattan, he saw among groves of pomegranate-trees and vines a number of fakeers, one of whom had seven foxes, who breakfasted and dined with him daily, while another had a lion and a gazelle, which lived together as familiarly as the dogs and angolas in a cat-merchant’s cage on the Pont Neuf. Before he could leave the Maabar country, he was seized with a dangerous fever at Maturah, where the Sultan Ghietheddin died of the same contagious disorder. On his recovery he obtained the new sultan’s permission to continue his journey, and embarking at Kawlam in Malabar, proceeded towards Hinaur. Ibn Batūta was seldom fortunate at sea. Sometimes he was robbed; at other times nearly drowned. The present voyage was the most unfortunate he ever undertook, for the ship being attacked and taken by pirates, he, as well as the rest of the passengers and crew, was robbed of all he possessed, and landed on the coast penniless and nearly naked. He contrived, however, by the aid of the charitable, we presume, to find his way to Kalicut, where, meeting with several merchants and lawyers who had known him in the days of his prosperity at Delhi, he was once more equipped handsomely, and enabled to pursue his romantic adventures. He had at this time some thoughts of returning to the court of the Sultan Mohammed, but fear, or rather prudence, deterred him, and he took the more agreeable route of the Maldive Islands, where he had left a little boy with his native mother. It seems to have been his intention to have taken away the child; but as the laws of the country forbade the emigration of women, he came away as he went, abandoning his offspring to the affection of its mother.