I had once occasion to go to the city of Ratanpur[8] on business, and was one day, about noon, walking in the market-place and eating a very fine piece of sugar-cane.

In the crowd I happened, by accident, to jostle an old woman as she passed me.

I looked back, intending to apologize for the accident, and heard her muttering indistinctly as she passed on.
Knowing the propensities of these old ladies, I became somewhat uneasy, and on turning round to my cane I found, to my great terror, that the juice had been all _turned to blood_.

Not a minute had elapsed, such were the fearful powers of this old woman.

I collected my followers, and, leaving my agents there to settle my accounts, was beyond the boundaries of the old wretch's influence before dark; had I remained, nothing could have saved me.