12 THE FORESTS OF UPPER INDIA 



hills before the rains commence. Though not comparable 

 to Simla, Naini Tal, when the season is on, is pretty well 

 crowded with seekers after health, both civil and military, 

 who soon put off the languid and washed-out expression 

 of last arrivals, and manage to enjoy themselves consider- 

 ably. The Lieutenant-Governor holds his tiny court, and 

 the Mall is enlivened by crowds of the fair sex, in bright 

 summer costumes, carried in jampans and dandis. Hill 

 ponies are numerous, as everyone possesses one or two, 

 and excursions to the neighbouring heights are frequent. 

 But when the rains come, then there is a damper over 

 everything. When the monsoon comes up with steamy 

 cloud, and the thunder bursts and rolls around the hills, 

 echoing from summit to summit for hours and days 

 together, and the torrents descend till every path runs 

 like a river, and tons of shingle are carried across the Mall 

 and cover it up, then one is pleased to have a good staunch 

 roof overhead, although the noise on the sheet-iron is 

 deafening. Eleven inches in two days has been known 

 to fall, and 200 inches may fall in six months. Then 

 one must look out for landslips. The fate of the entire 

 cricket ground and hotel and assembly rooms, and the 

 library well stored with books, which used to be the scene 

 of many hours' recreation and amusement, alas ! is too 

 well known, and the terrible tragedy that ensued ; but 

 that was years after the time of this narration. 



My recollections of Naini Tal are mostly pleasant ones, 

 and when I look at the old photographs and groups of 

 cheerful well-known faces of good men and true friends, 

 standing or sitting in rows by the old, well-remembered 

 club-house, it seems that those were happy days. Alas ! 

 that if fate should ever take me to visit again the valley 

 of the deep green lake, and to walk by that well-known 

 path to the club I was so familiar with, I should not see 



