33 A Sportswoman in India 



a river, fed by ice-cold mountain torrents, flowing down 

 into the plains. Driving along through the chequered 

 shade, the scenery grew grander as the road wound 

 higher ; the great gorges, clothed with wood, glistened 

 here and there with little waterfalls ; clumps of 

 gigantic tree-ferns and the crimson flowers of the 

 wild rhododendron filled every crevice of the ravine. 



With each turn of the zigzag road the air became 

 cooler and more invigorating, gradually the tropical 

 nature of the country was entirely lost, until we could 

 almost imagine ourselves among the mountains and 

 hills of Cumberland and Westmorland. Instead of 

 palms and bamboos there were pines and firs, roses 

 and honeysuckle grew on the stone walls at each side 

 of the road, the river tumbled and foamed over its 

 boulders through shrubberies of wild raspberries, a 

 cool, fresh breeze bent the ilex woods ; nothing re- 

 minded one of India until one looked back, and there, 

 far below, in a different world, lay the plains, blinking 

 in the heat of noon. 



Many times we changed ponies, and still steadily 

 climbed upwards towards the tops of the Nilgiri Hills. 

 At an elevation of four thousand feet the coffee planta- 

 tions came into sight, and terraces of neatly planted 

 little green bushes, with their manager's bungalow, 

 packing-houses, and coolie lines, covered the slopes. 

 At last the summit of the gorge was reached, and 

 we stopped at Coonoor for tiffin ; then passing the 

 Wellington depot, we found ourselves in an elevated, 

 open country, like Exmoor or the Cheviots, without 



