Nagendra Natha Datta is about to travel by boat. It is the month
_Joisto_ (May--June), the time of storms. His wife, Surja Mukhi, had
adjured him, saying, "Be careful; if a storm arises be sure you fasten
the boat to the shore. Do not remain in the boat." Nagendra had
consented to this, otherwise Surja Mukhi would not have permitted him
to leave home; and unless he went to Calcutta his suits in the Courts
would not prosper.

Nagendra Natha was a young man, about thirty years of age, a wealthy
_zemindar_ (landholder) in Zillah Govindpur. He dwelt in a small
village which we shall call Haripur. He was travelling in his own
boat. The first day or two passed without obstacle. The river flowed
smoothly on--leaped, danced, cried out, restless, unending, playful.
On shore, herdsmen were grazing their oxen--one sitting under a tree
singing, another smoking, some fighting, others eating. Inland,
husbandmen were driving the plough, beating the oxen, lavishing abuse
upon them, in which the owner shared. The wives of the husbandmen,
bearing vessels of water, some carrying a torn quilt, or a dirty mat,
wearing a silver amulet round the neck, a ring in the nose, bracelets
of brass on the arm, with unwashed garments, their skins blacker than
ink, their hair unkempt, formed a chattering crowd. Among them one
beauty was rubbing her head with mud, another beating a child, a third
speaking with a neighbour in abuse of some nameless person, a fourth
beating clothes on a plank. Further on, ladies from respectable
villages adorned the _gháts_ (landing-steps) with their
appearance--the elders conversing, the middle-aged worshipping _Siva_,
the younger covering their faces and plunging into the water; the boys
and girls screaming, playing with mud, stealing the flowers offered in
worship, swimming, throwing water over every one, sometimes stepping