Ootacamund and Anglo-Indian Life 327 



dropping laburnums, forests of cocoanut and palmyra 

 trees. 



Now and again we crossed the sandy bed of a great 

 river, miles upon miles of sand, and somewhere in the 

 centre of it all a little rill of water. It was hard to 

 conceive the contrast when the rains should come, and 

 in a few hours the rill be changed to a roaring torrent, 

 and the roaring torrent to a yeasty flood, crawling, 

 hissing, over the thirsty sand, swelling and whitening 

 from far bank to far bank, preceded by a wall of 

 chocolate-coloured water, and at last, freed from all 

 guide-lines, spreading in a mad tumult, like a sea, to 

 the horizon. 



At 5 a.m. on the fifth day we arrived, masked in 

 dust from head to foot, at the station of Mettapollium, 

 which must in April, I should think, be one of the 

 hottest places in the world. The tongas awaiting us 

 were at last packed, and, thankful to leave our two 

 reserved compartments, we rattled off on a thirty-two- 

 mile drive up to Ootacamund. 



To begin with, the road was level and the heat 

 stifling ; but it was not a dry heat, which accounted 

 for the wonder of vegetation. Words fail me to 

 describe the scenery at the foot of the Nilgiri Hills, up 

 which we began to climb. Nature had indeed run 

 riot ; heat and humidity had stimulated the soil into 

 an extraordinary activity, resulting in dense forests, 

 stupendous undergrowth, marvellous insects, and in- 

 numerable parasites and reptiles. 



The air was still and heavy with perfume and 



