The Nalbund leads naturally to the Ghasswallah, or grass-man, whosesign is a mountain of green stuff, which comes nodding in at the backgate every day upon four emaciated legs. A teeny pony's noseprotrudes from the front, with a muzzle on, for in such matters thespirit of the law of Moses is not current in this country. The mildHindoo does muzzle the mouth of the ox that treadeth out the corn.His religion forbids him to take life, and he obeys, but he steers asnear to that sin as he can, without actually committing it, andvitality is seen here at a lower ebb, maybe, than in any othercountry under the sun. The grassman maintains just so much flesh onthe bones of his beast as will suffice to hold them together undertheir burden, and this can be done without lucerne grass, so poorTantalus toddles about, buried under a pile of sweet-scented, fresh,green herbage, ministering to the sleek aristocracy of his own kind,and returns to gnaw his daily allowance of kurbee. There is,however, one alleviation of his lot for which he may well bethankful, and that is that his burden so encompasses him about thatthe stick of his driver cannot get at any part of him. I believe theGhasswallah is an institution peculiar to our presidency--this kindof Ghasswallah, I mean, who is properly a farmer, owning large well-irrigated fields of lucerne grass. Hay is supplied by another kindof Ghasswallah, who does not keep a pony, but brings the dailyallowance on his head. That allowance is five polees for each horse.A polee is a bundle of grass about as thick as a tree, and as long asa bit of string. This hay merchant does a large business, and usedto send in a fortnightly bill to each of his constituents in due form,thus:-