33 8 A Sportswoman in India 



From her sofa, when she drops her handkerchief, she 

 murmurs, " Boy." An old, wizened man, in answer 

 to the listless whisper, creeps noiselessly in, restores 

 the fallen property, vanishes more softly than any 

 cat, and resumes his cross-legged attitude in the 

 verandah, to await the next summons. Nature, " so 

 careless of the type," has allowed this species to 

 lapse, together with the old Qjui hai Jos Sedley 

 curry-and-cheroots dyspepsia-and-liver individual. 



The mem-sahib of the nineteenth century is an 

 energetic, tennis, Badminton, calling and riding 

 sometimes sporting creation. She has a plethora of 

 books from the club, but there is not time, or it is 

 too hot, to read much ; besides, she lives beneath the 

 curse of chits. 



As native servants are incapable of delivering a 

 message, and would turn every politesse into an insult, 

 inquiries and replies must be written. These incessant 

 chits arrive from daybreak to bedtime ; eventually the 

 habit of sending them becomes a disease. 



I, myself, a visitor in the place, am deluged with 

 chits from certain kind ladies in the station, who write 

 " how sorry they are not to have been able to call 

 at present, that I must have wondered at it, and 

 thought" etc., etc. Now I never "think." 



The rulers of Ind are to be met with high up 

 in the precedence list. 



Who are the rulers of Ind ? to whom shall we bow the knee ? 

 Make thy peace with the women, and the men shall make 

 thee L. G. 



