is the bearer of Ganges' holy water, who drives a profitable trade,
his gains increasing as his load lightens, for the further he wanders
from the sacred stream, the more he gets for the contents of his jar.

Of merchandise we passed very little, the Ganges being still the high
road between north-west India and Bengal. Occasionally a string of
camels was seen, but, owing to the damp climate, these are rare, and
unknown east of the meridian of Calcutta. A little cotton, clumsily
packed in ragged bags, dirty, and deteriorating every day, even at
this dry season, proves in how bad a state it must arrive at the
market during the rains, when the low wagons are dragged through
the streams.

The roads here are all mended with a curious stone, called Kunker,
which is a nodular concretionary deposit of limestone, abundantly
imbedded in the alluvial soil of a great part of India.* [Often
occurring in strata, like flints.] It resembles a coarse gravel, each
pebble being often as large as a walnut, and tuberculated on the
surface: it binds admirably, and forms excellent roads, but
pulverises into a most disagreeable impalpable dust.

A few miles beyond Taldangah we passed from the sandstone, in which
the coal lies, to a very barren country of gneiss and granite rocks,
upon which the former rests; the country still rising, more hills
appear, and towering far above all is Paras-nath, the culminant
point, and a mountain whose botany I was most anxious to explore.

The vegetation of this part of the country is very poor, no
good-sized trees are to be seen, all is a low stunted jungle.
The grasses were few, and dried up, except in the beds of the