Ootacamund and Anglo-Indian Life 345 



alone. Whatever her feelings were, she showed a 

 supremely indifferent front, and after about an hour 

 the men reappeared, and without further explanation 

 picked her up and went on. 



Another time, however, in a bullock-cart with her 

 ayah, on the banks of a river too flooded to cross late 

 at night, she really was abandoned by her native 

 servants, and fierce-looking Pathans, armed with knives 

 and matchlocks, came down upon the bullock-cart. 

 The ayah behaved manfully, spending the night 

 walking round and round the cart, and waving off the 

 ruffians angrily as they peered curiously inside, till in 

 the morning the servants reappeared. 



Every creature in India appears to be eaten up 

 with laziness ; even my pony pretends she is too fine 

 to switch off her own flies with her own long tail, 

 and turns her head round to order her syce to flip 

 them away. 



Captain shoots a Monal pheasant out in 



camp, and tells his "boy" to look after it, as he 

 wants its skin. Of course the " boy " leaves it out in 

 the sun all day. When we return at night the bird is 

 useless. We spend the evening rocking with laughter 



at the sight of Captain rushing round and round 



the tents, clutching the pheasant by the neck, the 

 boy fleeing before him, and being hit over the head 

 with the pheasant's body whenever opportunity affords. 



I remember an old Colonel's exasperation over 

 natives in general. He said : " I asked in the club 

 for brandy one evening. A fellow brought me every 



