THE INDIAN HOT SEASON 191 



getting a chance at the wretch, and before the gun 

 can be taken in hand it is off. 



Oh ! those hot days in the Indian plains, worst 

 of all when, during the rainy season, everything is 

 steaming, and the air so heavy and loaded that 

 suffocation seems inevitable ; the nights bring- 

 ing neither relief nor rest ; the knowledge that 

 thousands of miles intervene between the vaporous 

 atmosphere and the green meadows of England, 

 through which the well-remembered and well-loved 

 streams are gliding beneath the shade of the 

 willows, where the air is fragrant with the sweetly- 

 scented water - mint, whose leaves are gently 

 bruised as the river flows on ; the grass so fresh 

 and cool ; the willow wrens twittering in the osier- 

 beds ; and all the sights and sounds which, ever 

 dear to us, we never love so well as when gasping 

 for breath under the flapping curtain of a punkah 

 pulled by a somnolent coolie, and a sable demon 

 is croaking overhead. 



I am not one of those persons who think it the 

 correct thing to abuse India and Indian ways. 

 On the contrary, I consider it a paradise for a 

 poor man who is fond of sport ; but it has its 

 drawbacks, and the intense heat and consequent 

 feeling of want of rest are dreadfully trying to 

 any but the strongest constitutions. It is well, 

 perhaps, to have had some such experiences, if 

 only the better to realize how true it is that 

 4 there is no place like home.' 



During the nesting-season, the rooks which 



