Ootacamund and Anglo-Indian Life 337 



" The white dust in the highways and the stenches 

 in the byways " are a very present evil ; with the 

 flies, mosquitos, weary heat, and endless glare, they 

 swell the items in the long bill which the white man 

 pays for serving his grim step-mother country. 



Life in the jerry-built, ramshackle bungalows on 

 either side of the road must be looked upon as more 

 or less of a picnic : doors do not fit, but curtains 

 generally supply their places ; not two of the creaking 

 cane-chairs, upholstered in faded cretonnes, match one 

 another ; the uneven floors are hidden by an assort- 

 ment of jail-made, striped rugs ; glass-studded p h ulkaris 

 nailed upon the walls apologise for the absence of 

 wall-papers, and hide the stained and peeling white- 

 wash. 



The rooms are invariably dark, and almost always 

 bristle with a hundred terrible little Indian, Kashmir, 

 and Burmese tables, stools, and screens. Wherever 

 a screen or a stool or a table affords standing-room, 

 there will be found, in uniform, on horseback, in 

 ball-gown, a thousand family photographs, also Indian 

 silver, also curiosities from the bazaar. Strewn 

 draperies obstruct progress as effectually as barbed 

 wire. Light in the bedrooms, by-the-bye, is so 

 arranged that, as a rule, no woman of high ideals sees 

 to do her hair properly from the time she sets foot 

 in an Indian bungalow to the time she leaves it. 



Now a great deal of rubbish has been written about 

 the mem-sahib. A beautiful, weary figure lounges 

 through tradition, clothed in Indian shawls and bangles. 



22 



