_HYDERABAD AND POONA._
We arrived at Hyderabad at half-past eleven on February 9th, and found
Major Gilchrist (military secretary to the Resident, Mr. Cordery)
waiting with the Nizam's carriages to take us to the Residency. It is
an imposing building with a flight of twenty-two granite steps, a
colossal sphinx standing on either hand, leading to the portico
through which you reach the spacious reception and dining rooms,
whilst the comfortably furnished sleeping-apartments lie beyond. An
entire wing had been appropriated to the ladies of our party; and,
luxurious as our railway-cars had been, the increased space and size
of our new quarters appeared thoroughly delightful.
In the afternoon we went for a drive through the populous Hindoo
suburb of Chadar Ghat to the celebrated 'Tombs of the Kings' at
Golkonda, which, however, must not be confounded with the celebrated
diamond mines of the same name, for they are nearly one hundred miles
apart. The road to the Tombs passes over a stony belt or plain, on
which gigantic masses of dark granite lie on all sides in picturesque
confusion. The natives have a legend that they are the fragments left
over at the completion of the Creation. About seven miles from the
city, a solitary gloomy-looking hill rises, crowned by a fort, at the
foot of which stand the Tombs. They are magnificent buildings with
grand kubbabs or domes rising above the terraces, arcades, and
minarets of the main edifice. One of the finest of the Tombs,
dedicated to the memory of a Kootub Shahi king, has unfortunately been
whitewashed within and without. The Tombs are mainly built of grey
granite. They are nearly all covered with beautiful mosaics and
enamelled tiles, mutilated, however, in too many instances by the
hands of modern relic-hunters. The buildings are surrounded by gardens
fragrant with champa and orange-blossom, and gay with many other
flowers. One can see that formerly the gardens must have been much
more lovely and luxuriant than they now are. The decay and ruin were
caused by the great siege in the days of Aurangzib. Extensive repairs
have been carried out by Sir Salar Jung. He has restored the gardens,
and saved the Tombs from the destruction which had gradually been
creeping over them.
We drove back, as we had come, in one of the Nizam's carriages--a drag
drawn by four horses, cleverly managed by the chief coachman (an
Englishman, named Ulett), who twisted his steeds about in the most
marvellous way, especially in the garden before starting, where they
might have been said to have 'turned on a sixpence.' I occupied the
box-seat coming home, and enjoyed the delicious freshness of the
evening air, among the picturesque rocks which rose up on either side.
One of these, called 'One Gun Rock,' looks exactly like a cannon
without its carriage, resting on an elevation and pointed towards the
city. There is another rock with a similar name near Secunderabad; but
the resemblance in that case is not so striking.
In the evening we dined with a native gentleman, who spoke English
fairly well, and gave us a sumptuous repast in European fashion.
Besides a multitude of chandeliers in his house, he had a
billiard-table with glass legs, and splendid red satin chairs also
with glass arms and legs. The view from the roof, to which we ascended
after dinner, over the city, bathed in the light of the full moon, was
really beautiful and quite romantic. On leaving, our host handed each
of us a little _flacon_ of most delicious attar of roses.
[Illustration: Gun Rock]
The following morning we were called at five o'clock, and by seven
were driving towards Secunderabad, five or six miles distant. On
leaving the Residency, which stands in the suburb of Chadar Ghat,
about a mile to the north-west of the city; we drove through the city
of Hyderabad, where the population is mainly Mahomedan, and afterwards
through the outlying suburbs and villages, chiefly inhabited by
Hindoos. Two miles north of Secunderabad is Trimulgherry, the
headquarters of the Hyderabad Subsidiary Force, and a very important
military station for European troops, the city of Secunderabad itself
being garrisoned by native troops. One-tree Hill is not very far from
here, called after the solitary palm-tree standing in the midst of a
mass of rocks. Passing the city, we came to the barracks of the 7th
Hussars, and then to Bolarum, where the Resident lives during the
rainy season. His house is quite charming with its handsome ball-room,
numerous lawn-tennis grounds, and well-kept gardens, in which we
gathered violets and roses. The breeze was quite invigorating, the
difference between the air here and at Hyderabad being very
remarkable, considering that this is only 200 feet higher. The view
from the top of the house, towards Byham's Monument and the quarters
of the Hyderabad Contingent, was also interesting, the landscape
resembling burnt-up, brown, breezy 'down' country, and reminding us
all of Sussex.
[Illustration: One-Tree Hill]
[Illustration: Mir Alam, Hyderabad]
We drove back to the Residency to breakfast and there sat quietly and
read all the morning in our pleasant rooms. Late in the afternoon we
drove to the tank of Mir Alam, where a brother of Sir Salar Jung was
waiting for us in a steam-launch, in which we made little voyages up
and down the so-called 'tank,' which was in fact an artificial lake
twenty miles in circumference, and covering an area of 10,000 acres.
Everybody went into raptures over the scenery, which was not unlike
the tamer parts of Loch Duich or Loch Carron, in Scotland, with the
addition of an occasional mosque or tomb perched on the rocky heights.
It was extremely pleasant, steaming slowly about; and, as the sun went
down, gorgeous effects were produced behind the rocks and hills.
Prettier still when it became dark and the lights began to twinkle on
the hillsides, and in the tents, pitched in readiness for a dinner
party to be given by Sir Salar Jung this evening. The drive home
through the densely crowded tortuous streets was most amusing; though
one never ceased wondering how the drivers, even with the aid of the
active syces, managed to avoid running over somebody, so thoroughly
careless did the throng of people appear of their own safety.
The next day, February 11th, we were again awakened at a very early
hour, and drove off to a spot in the Nizam's preserves, about six
miles distant, where we were met by elephants, bullock and
horse-tongas, and two cheetahs in carts, in readiness for the
projected black-buck hunting expedition. Our guides strongly
recommended us to select tongas instead of elephants as the mode of
conveyance, saying that the black-buck have been so frequently hunted
of late that they are alarmed at the sight of elephants. This advice
proved good, for we soon afterwards found ourselves close to four fine
animals. The cheetah which was to be first let loose, and which was
carried on one of the tongas, became much excited, though he was
blindfolded by a leathern mask and not allowed to see his prey until
quite close to it. He stood up in the cart lashing his tail, and now
and then curling it round the neck of the driver like a huge boa. When
at last he was set free he darted forward and, after crouching behind
a hillock waiting his opportunity, made a tremendous spring right on
to the back of a buck, striking the poor animal such a blow on the
side of the head that it must have been paralysed before the cruel
teeth of the cheetah seized its throat. It was a splendid exhibition
of brute strength and agility; but I carefully kept far enough away
not to see any of the painful details which are inseparable from such
sport, and which must, to me, always mar the pleasures of the chase.
[Illustration: Cheetah-cart]
[Illustration: EN ROUTE TO HUNT BLACK-BUCK WITH CHEETAH]
Proceeding in another direction, we soon came across a large herd of
black-buck; but the elephants had by this time caught us up, and the
moment the deer perceived the huge creatures they bounded away. The
elephants were therefore left behind with the horses, and we all
seated ourselves on the tongas, creeping in this way quite near a herd
of forty or fifty does, with six or eight fine bucks feeding with
them. At one of these bucks the second and smaller cheetah was let
go; but he could not make up his mind which buck to try for, whereby
he lost both his opportunity and his temper, and went off sulkily into
the jungle, from which his keeper had considerable difficulty in
recapturing him.
[Illustration: Death of the Buck]
We had in the meantime gone on with the first cheetah till we came to
a herd of about eighty black-buck, and they allowed us to approach
pretty close to them before starting off at a good round trot. The
largest buck took alarm, and was out of sight in a moment; but by
making a _detour_ we managed to get near the others, and the cheetah
was once more set free. After a moment's hesitation he fixed his
attention upon the finest of the bucks in sight, and after a short
gallop in pursuit made a tremendous spring upon his prey. This time,
however, the cheetah missed his mark, and, falling short, rolled over
ignominiously in the dust. Recovering himself in an instant, he made
another and more successful spring, and despatched the poor buck with
the usual quick, lightning-like stroke of the paw. The force with
which the cheetah strikes his victim is marvellous. I have heard that
a tiger can in the same way crush the head of a water-buffalo like an
egg-shell; and the power of the cheetah's paw must be little less in
proportion. It is, of course, well known that the tiger's retractile
claws are like those of a cat, whereas the cheetah has toe-nails
similar to those of a dog.
The drive back to the Residency seemed long and hot, and I was glad to
rest awhile after our early excursion. Later in the forenoon we drove
through the city, this time behind a team of Austrian greys, on our
way to breakfast with Sir Salar Jung at the Barah Dari Palace. Sir
Salar is Prime Minister to the present Nizam, and is the son of the
eminent Indian statesman whose spare figure, clever face, well-cut
clothes, and snowy turban were seen often during his visit to London
twelve years ago. He received us very pleasantly, and showed us over
his palace, built around a fine courtyard, with elaborately carved
marble seats at intervals. The palace itself contains quantities of
European chandeliers, musical boxes, portraits in oil of past Nizams,
Maharajahs, and Governors-General. Sir Salar has also a fine
collection of Indian arms, and we were shown the skin of an enormous
tiger killed by himself only last week.
Breakfast was served in a most delightful verandah overlooking a
courtyard with flashing fountains and green and shady trees, the table
being prettily decorated, and the meal arranged in the most approved
European fashion.
Afterwards we returned to the Residency, and the hottest hours of the
day were spent in reading and writing. At four o'clock I again drove
out with Mr. Furdonji Jamsetjee, the Minister's private secretary,
passing through the picturesque and interesting native bazaars. The
narrow whitewashed streets lined with little shops, gaily decorated
with gold and bright colours, form a fitting background to the
smartly dressed groups moving about among them. We did not pause to
make any purchases, but stopped the carriage at many points to admire
the motley crowd and the curious and beautiful mosques and temples.
We were fortunate enough to meet two processions, one literally a
'wedding march,' and the other a numerous company of Hindoo
worshippers. First came a noisy, turbulent crowd of native soldiery,
escorting a young man mounted on a very fat horse, dressed in gorgeous
kincob, with eight people holding an enormous umbrella over him. This
proved to be the bridegroom, and he was followed by many elephants and
camels. As for the unfortunate bride, she was immured in a closely
covered palanquin decorated with red velvet and gold. How she could
live and breathe and have her being in such an airless box will always
be a mystery to me, for we were gasping for breath in our open
carriage. The second procession consisted of many more elephants and
camels, with the addition of bands of brass and other noisy
instruments. The central figure of this cavalcade seemed to be an old
priest carrying on his head a bulky package wrapped in green cloth,
which, I heard, was an offering to be made in an adjacent temple.
Hyderabad is unlike any other city I have yet seen in India, and,
indeed, is said to resemble no other Eastern town. Nowhere, not even
in the seaports, is there so mixed a population. As Mr. Edwin Arnold
says, 'You see the Arab, short and square, with his silver-bound
matchlock and daggers; the black-faced Sidi; the Robilla, with blue
caftan and blunderbuss; the Pathan; the Afghan, dirty and long-haired;
the Rajput, with his shield of oiled and polished hide; Persians,
Bokhara men, Turks, Mahrattas, Madrasses, Parsees, and others.' The
people are all allowed to carry arms--a privilege of which they fully
avail themselves, evidently regarding daggers, knives, matchlocks, and
a sword or two, as fit finery for festivities and merry-makings of
every kind.
[Illustration: Mosque Entrance]
Notwithstanding their ferocious appearance, the people of Hyderabad
are not more quarrelsome or turbulent than those of other cities, and
recourse is very seldom had to these swords, daggers, or guns. The
inlaying of arms and the sale of so-called ancient weapons to
curiosity-collectors is, naturally, one of the specialities of
Hyderabad. An immense quantity were brought to the Residency this
morning for our inspection, and they made a glittering display in the
marble portico. Among them were swords with watered blades, called
johurdas, and worth several hundreds of pounds; besides innumerable
scimitars of every shape, rapiers, blunderbusses, and exquisitely
ornamented but treacherous-looking daggers and other stabbing
instruments.
It has amused us much during our stay here to watch the elephants
taking their baths. The Nizam owns three hundred of these big beasts,
and all the nobles possess elephants in proportion to their rank and
wealth. The huge creatures are driven down to the river night and
morning, and it was most curious to see the unwieldy animals lay
themselves flat down on their sides in the shallow water, so that
nothing but a small island of body, so to speak, was visible, while an
occasional lazy switch of tail or wave of trunk indicated the languid
feeling of pleasure and contentment enjoyed by the bathers. Their
keepers, helped by a small boy who clambered up their steep sides,
assisted the cleansing process by scrubbing them vigorously with a
sort of stable-broom. As soon as one side was thoroughly cleaned the
boy jumped off, and at the word of command, with a tremendous
upheaval, and amid a great displacement of water, the huge beast
flopped down again on its cleansed side, uttering a prodigious grunt
of satisfaction, and quite ready for the same process to be repeated.
Such a splashing was never seen; especially when, as chanced to be the
case whilst we were driving past, fifteen elephants were taking their
baths at the same time. I felt quite afraid that one little baby
elephant, who had timidly followed its mother, would be overwhelmed
and drowned by the wallowing and flounderings of the older animals.
_Saturday, February 12th._--Our early expeditions of the last two
mornings have been so tiring, that I determined to remain quietly at
home to-day until it was time to go to breakfast with the Nizam at
eleven o'clock. At half-past ten his Highness's beautiful coaches came
for us; and--Mr. Cordery and I leading the way--we drove through the
Chowk, one of the broadest streets of the city, to the palace. This is
reached through the stables; and the horses, evidently waiting
inspection, were standing with their heads out of the doors of their
boxes; their grooms, in yellow tunics, blue trousers, and red
waist-bands much trimmed with silver, being stationed at the animals'
heads. At one corner of the quadrangle in which the stables are built
is a passage leading to a second and larger square, crowded by numbers
of the Nizam's retainers. We passed through this to a third courtyard
(said to cover as much ground as Lincoln's Inn Fields), and there
alighted, at the bottom of a fine flight of marble steps, overlooking
a charming garden with the usual tank in the centre. The effect was,
however, rather spoilt to European eyes by a very ill-cast bronze
figure, holding in its hand a large coloured air-ball, such as are
sold in the streets of London for a penny each. The Nizam (now about
twenty-one years of age) is so delighted with these balls that he has
ordered two hundred of them, so that when one explodes it may be
replaced immediately.
From the entrance-hall, marble corridors, from which hung handsome
glass chandeliers, led into the centre room of a fine suite of
apartments, where the Nizam shortly afterwards joined us. At breakfast
I sat between his Highness and his chief aide-de-camp, neither of whom
touched anything, except a glass of iced water and a cup of tea,
during the whole of a very long meal. Subsequently the Nizam kindly
caused all his best horses and ponies to be brought to the foot of the
marble steps for us to see. There were Arabs of high degree,
thoroughbred English horses, and very good-looking Walers among them,
besides some tiny ponies, four of which, when harnessed together, drew
a real Cinderella coach of solid silver. Although I delighted in
looking at these beautiful animals, I became so tired that I had to
make my escape. Some of the party stayed and went through the
stables, harness-rooms, and coach-houses, which must, from their
account, have been well worth seeing. They were especially struck by
the perfect training of the horses, who seemed as docile as kittens,
and would jump in and out of their stalls, take a straw out of their
groom's mouth, and when told to 'go' would dash off wildly round the
garden (to the great detriment of the flowers and plants), returning
instantly to their stables at the word of command.
From the Nizam's palace I drove to see the wife of the Finance
Minister, Mehdi Ali--an intelligent lady, who speaks English
wonderfully well; in fact, she expressed herself so perfectly that it
was difficult to believe she had scarcely spoken a word of our
language for more than a year and a half. It seemed sad to hear that
she never went out, because she did not care to go 'covered up,' and
that such had been the seclusion of her existence, that she scarcely
knew any animals by sight, except from pictures, and had no pets,
except, as she said, 'pet books.' She showed me the books gained as
prizes at college by her two nephews, with evident appreciation of
their contents, one being Prescott's 'History of America,' and the
other a translation of Homer's 'Iliad.' I parted with her after
receiving the usual garland of honour on leaving, feeling grateful
that Providence had not placed _me_ behind a purdah, but had allowed
me to go about and see the world for myself instead of having to look
at it through other people's eyes.
The midday heat was so great that we gladly rested at the Residency
until it became time to go to tea with Khurseed Jah, whose house is
only a little distance off. We were received at the entrance to the
garden by our host and his son, who led us to a marble platform by the
side of a tank on which three boats were floating. One of these had
the name of 'Sunbeam' painted upon it; but the compliment must have
been paid some time ago, for both boat and paint looked decidedly
shabby. On a marble platform in the centre of the tank a band was
playing. My little girls embarked for a row in the boat, discarding
the services of the four boatmen who, apparently disliking, like
Othello, to find 'their occupation gone,' jumped into the water and
swam after them. Their black heads and copper-coloured shoulders
looked so funny following the erratic movements of the boat!
[Illustration: The Hamyan Jump, Delhi]
We were offered ices, tea, coffee, and other good things, whilst the
band played its liveliest airs. Presently old-fashioned bath-chairs
arrived to take us up by an avenue of palms to the house, where the
Nawab showed us photographs and portraits of various distinguished
people, and--with natural pride--the preparations he is making for a
Jubilee dinner on the 16th, when he will entertain 300 guests in a
spacious marquee. The whole place is now encumbered with
bullock-carts, bringing up stores, provisions, and wines for this
great occasion.
The Nawab earnestly pressed us to fix a day on which he might be
allowed to entertain us; but want of time made this hospitable plan
impossible. On parting he presented us each with a bouquet, as well as
with the usual bottles of scent, the number of which varies, I
observe, according to the position of the recipient. On these
occasions I find my number is generally eight, but occasionally only
six; while some of the party get four, and others the still more
modest allotment of two bottles apiece. The drive home, through the
cool air beneath the bright stars, amid the twinkling lights, and the
cries and 'chatterification' of birds going to bed, as well as the
flutter of flying-foxes skimming overhead as they hurried forth on
their nocturnal predatory expeditions, was really the pleasantest part
of the day.
In the evening there was a dinner party at the Residency, which
included Sir Salar Jung, his brother Mooner-ul-Mulk, and several
European guests. Sir Salar is of gigantic physical proportions, and
well merits his sobriquet of 'mountain-man.' He has been a great deal
in England, and is well acquainted with European manners and customs.
Colonel Marshall, another of the guests, who since the retirement of
the Nizam's former tutor has acted as his Highness's private political
adviser, will be a great addition to the English element in Hyderabad.
He has already occupied a similar position with the Rajah of Chumba,
and has thus gained much experience to fit him for his delicate task
here. There are many private cabals and intrigues among the nobles, as
well as among the relatives of the Nizam, and little interest is
taken in the administration of public affairs. Many amusing stories
are related of the inevitable rivalry between the nobles, and I was
told that, one of them having assumed the title of 'Glory of the Sun,'
his nearest relative and rival immediately capped it by taking upon
himself the transcendent appellation of 'Glory of the Heavens.'
On the morning of February 13th we had to get up very early in order
to start for Bombay _via_ Poonah, all our luggage having been sent to
the station overnight. Unfortunately our little party now comprises
two invalids, for Mr. McLean has been ill for some days past, while
Mr. des Graz is suffering from a touch of sunstroke. Before starting,
Mr. Cordery took us round the beautiful garden of the Residency to see
the preparations to celebrate the Jubilee. The outline of the house is
to be illuminated with _butties_, little earthenware or glass pots
filled with wicks floating in cocoa-nut oil, like those used at South
Kensington. The grounds are also to be lighted up with pretty arcades
formed of palms, and hung with lanterns; while beyond the garden is a
large open space, where quantities of fireworks are to be let off.
By Colonel Marshall's desire, Ulett brought the Nizam's state coach--a
huge canary-coloured, boat-shaped vehicle, hung on the most elastic of
Cee springs, with solid silver railings, trimmings, and canopy
supports--to convey us to the station. The coachman wore a
canary-coloured livery (the royal colour of Hyderabad) stiff with
silver brocade; and the eight attendants were dressed in yellow, blue,
and red costumes. There were several other state carriages, so that we
formed quite a little procession; and just as we reached the station
Afsur Jung, the Nizam's aide-de-camp, drove up to bid us farewell, in
a pretty little dog-cart drawn by four Pegu ponies. At 8.45 precisely
the train steamed off, after much hand-shaking and many good wishes
from a large group of kind friends, who had each and all brought
nosegays, so that the saloon was turned for that day into a perfect
garden.
We breakfasted comfortably in the train; but later the sun began to
blaze down so fiercely upon us, that I fear our two invalids must have
found the heat and the shaking of the carriages rather trying. We
reached Wadi at three o'clock, and Hingoli about seven in the
evening--very tired. This is the junction for Bijapur, one of the most
ancient cities of India, and once the capital of the Deccan. Its walls
are of immense extent, and it is guarded by a fort six miles in
circumference. In fact, what is now called the city is only the ruins
of that portion of it which used to be enclosed within the fort. The
mosques and tombs are of great interest, and I am sorry there was not
time to visit them. The mosque and tomb of Ibrahim Rozah are said to
be unsurpassed by anything of the kind in India. They are, however,
carefully described by Mr. Fergusson in his 'History of Architecture;'
and he also gives full details about the many fine ruins of Bijapur,
including the Gol Gumbaz, or Round Dome--a mausoleum built in honour
of Sultan Muhammad VII.--the Cathedral Mosque, and the Ark, or
Citadel.
[Illustration: No Coal]
On Monday, February 14th, at 5 A.M., we reached Poonah, the capital of
the Mahratta country, 120 miles distant from Bombay. Here we were
shunted into a siding, where Dr. Hoffmeister soon joined us, bringing
good news of all on board the 'Sunbeam,' which had had a splendid
passage of fifty-two hours down from Kurrachee to Bombay, making the
shortest run on record entirely under sail. He also eased our minds by
his favourable opinion of our invalids, though his examination could
be but superficial.
Mr. Crawford, the Commissioner, appeared about eight o'clock, with
several carriages, and kindly insisted upon our spending the day at
his house, which, I need scarcely say, was a very pleasant plan. He
first took us for a drive round the city to the Government House,
called Ganesh Khind, where the Governor of Bombay lives for several
months in the year. It was delicious to stroll about the charming
grounds, but it was equally pleasant to return to breakfast at the
Commissioner's bungalow, which stands on the banks of the Mula River.
Mr. Crawford is a great horticulturist, and has surrounded his
dwelling with a beautiful garden, filled with a profusion of all sorts
of acclimatised plants, flowers, trees, and fruits. The crotons,
dracaenas, and ferns seemed particularly fine, and two arcades of
bamboo trellis leading from the house to the river-bank made very
pretty features in the sylvan scene.
A poultry-yard stands next to the garden, filled at this moment by a
great many fowls, all ready for the Poultry Show next week. I had
heard of this Show a few weeks ago, and was much pleased to see some
of my own birds, which I had sent for from the yacht, holding their
own against fine specimens from all parts of the world. They had, of
course, originally been brought from England for the prosaic purpose
of forming an addition to our larder, a fate from which they have
happily escaped, as they will not now return to the 'Sunbeam.' There
was also a miniature zoological-garden, containing a numerous
collection of deer and smaller animals, including a sweet little
monkey, with which the children, of course, immediately fell in love.
[Illustration: Interior, Delhi]
At breakfast we had the unexpected pleasure of meeting our old friends
Major and Mrs. Hannay. He is now aide-de-camp to the Duke of
Connaught, and, directly our meal was over, he had to hurry off to
look after the preparations for the ball which is to be given by
H.R.H. to-night in honour of the Jubilee. The date of this ball was
only fixed twenty-four hours ago, and there is naturally a great deal
to be done, though people in India seem to take these sudden
arrangements quite as a matter of course. The Duke and Duchess of
Connaught had graciously telegraphed to Hyderabad to ask us to stay at
Poonah for the ball; so, though difficult to manage, we have decided
to remain for the earlier part at any rate, and to leave by the 11
P.M. train, which will bring us to Bombay early to-morrow morning.
After the usual siesta and five o'clock tea, I went with the
Commissioner to attend a meeting of the ladies' committee of the
Poultry Show, held in a tent on the spot where the Show is to take
place. All the arrangements seemed excellent, and there was nothing
for me to do but to express warm approval. We then went for a short
drive through the principal streets of Poonah, which includes a
picturesque native town, besides charming suburbs where the bungalows
are half buried in gardens. The well-known Bund Road, surrounded by
hills, has been so often and so well described that it would be absurd
for me to attempt to say anything about it after the hasty glimpse
caught during the pleasant drives of this morning and afternoon.
Directly after dinner we went in an open carriage to the ball at the
Gymkhana. The bright lights and lamps of a long row of carriages
waiting outside made a pretty and animated scene as we drove up. The
guests were received at the entrance to the ball-room by the Duke and
Duchess of Connaught. H.R.H. danced the first quadrille with me, and
the next two with Mabelle and Maude Laurence. We were pressed to
prolong our stay until to-morrow; this was, unfortunately, impossible,
for we are already overdue in Bombay. At a quarter to eleven I left
the ball-room, and the young ladies followed shortly afterwards. We
went straight to the station, and, re-entering the train, were again
shunted on to the main line, starting at last on the final stage of
our journey to Bombay.
[Illustration: Bengal Lancer--Rawul Pindi]