“Why,” he replied, “these bazaar rascals stuff and blow up their meat, and use half a dozen other different ways of taking in the unwary passenger.”
“’Pon my life,” said I, “you frighten me; if this my best bower fails, we shall go plump on the rocks of short commons, that’s certain.”
“Oh, never mind,” said he; “at the worst, my place is not far off, and there is abundance of prog there; besides, I can eat bazaar mutton, or goat, or anything else at a pinch, particularly if there is a good glass of Hodgson to wash it down.”
This dialogue was cut short by the entry of the mutton; it certainly did not look as respectable mutton should look. I seized the carver, eager to know the worst, and gave a cut; the murder was out, and so was the wind; the unhappy mutton falling into a state of collapse.
“Ha! ha! ha!” roared the sub: “I thought as much; now try that mass of fat containing the kidney, and you will have farther evidence of the skill with which an Indian butcher can manufacture a fat joint of mutton.”
I made a transverse incision into the membraneous sac, and there lay a beautiful and compact stratification of suet, skin, and other extraneous matters, which I extracted seriatim at the point of my fork. I confess I was thunderstruck at this profligacy of the heathen, which is, however, common enough.
Currah is an interesting spot, abounding in picturesque ruins; and good sporting is to be had there, the neighbourhood abounding in hares, wild pea-fowl, grey partridges, and quail; the best cover in which to find the latter is, my friend told me, the soft feathery undergrowth of grass to be found in the indigo fields. In some of the islands of the Ganges, black partridge, florikin, and hog-deer are to be met with, and there are also plenty of wolves and hyænas amongst the ruins, for those who are fond of such sport.
The town of Currah, about fifty miles above Allahabad, is situated on the Ganges, close to its banks, and presents to the view a confused mass of mud buildings, buried in the foliage of numerous neem, peepul, and tamarind trees; interspersed with these are several temples, musjids, or mosques, as also some houses of stone or brick, displaying a considerable appearance of comfort and convenience for this part of India.
The vicinity is much cut up by deep ravines, formed by the annual rains in their descent, through the loose soil, to the river. A little below the town are the remains of a considerable fort, which from the Ganges has rather a picturesque appearance; its gateway, and some lofty circular bastions, are in a very tolerable state of preservation.
Lower down still, on the spot where I moored, are some pretty Hindoo mundils or temples, from which ghauts or flights of steps lead to the river; these are overhung by noble trees, principally the tamarind, shedding a cool and refreshing shade over the spot.