FROM BOMBAY TO ETAWAH. 31 



heat will be replaced by the Turkish-bath atmosphere of the wet 

 season. 



During the first day's ride we saw not a single wild animal, nor 

 even a bird of any size, but in one district we saw many " machans " 

 — platforms of poles erected in the fields, upon which the owners 

 sit to scare away the deer and wild pigs which come to feed upon 

 the gi'owing crops. 



In the same compartment of the railway carriage as myself were 

 three old Hindoo merchants, gray-bearded, dignified, and respect- 

 able, who evidently were natives of the better sort. Breakfast time 

 came, we were still many hot and dusty miles from a refreshment sta- 

 tion, and from the depths of some of their bundles, the old gentle- 

 men, who had evidently travelled before, evolved a supply of cooked 

 food. It consisted simply of a large bowl of " dal," Hke stiff pea- 

 soup, and a pile of " chapatties," small, leathery, unleavened pan- 

 cakes, made of flour. With my usual indiiference as to the wants of 

 my inner man, I had neglected to provide myself with a luncheon 

 to fall back upon, and while I was busily thinking of the nice warm 

 breakfast I should have in two or three hours more, one of the old 

 native gentlemen suddenly thrust his fingers into the bowl of 

 cooked "dal " (they had no spoons, forks, or knives), scooped up a 

 good, generous handful, plastered it over .a little pile of " chapat- 

 ties," and, with a benevolent beam over his spectacles, handed it 

 to me. I was completely taken aback for an instant, for the old 

 gentleman's hands were as grimy as my own, but I accepted the 

 food with my politest bow and ate it down with every appearance 

 of gratitude. I would have eaten it had it been ten times as dirty 

 as it undoubtedly was. It was an act as friendly as any man could 

 perform, and I was pleased to find such a feehng of pvu-e charity 

 and benevolence in a native. 



About noon we stopped at Khundwa for breakfast. There was 

 a clean and commodious wash-room, a table well filled with choice 

 eatables, ice-water in abundance, and plenty of time. "What a 

 comfort a shai-p appetite is upon such an occasion ! 



Nearly every station upon the line of the G. I. P. Railway has its 

 beds of flowers, and vines running up its walls, and occasionally a 

 switch-tender has trained flowering vines over his little house until 

 it has become a perfect bower, fit for a fairy queen* 



As we approach the Ganges the plain becomes green and fertile 

 and dotted over with trees and villages. There are ponds and pools 

 of water along the railway, in which herons, storks, and ibises are 



