THE WAINAAD FOREST. 117 



My servant Appoo also came down with fever, was worse than 

 useless, and begged me to send him back to Madras or he would 

 die. I had before determined to discharge him, and forthwith 

 gave him money enough to take him back to Madras, which so 

 completely overwhelmed him that he actually fell upon his knees 

 to express his thanks. I record this as the only instance I ever knew 

 of a Hindoo thanking any one for a kindness, but I doubt if any 

 Anglo-Indian will believe that it really occuiTed. 



As soon as I was able to think, I sent for a doctor. After a long 

 delay he came, but to me he seemed only an excuse for a doctor, 

 for all the qualities a good physician should have seemed to be 

 lacking in him. His first step was to find fault because I had not 

 sent him a note instead of a verbal message. I was in a beautiful 

 condition for the composition of a stylish note just then. Then he 

 sniffed the damp, unsavory, and poisonous au' of my room, looked 

 dubiously at the chaos surrounding me, and remarked that I 

 " ought to get cleaned up a little." Just my own opinion, but who 

 was going to do it when my servant had gone home sick, and the 

 landlord was good for nothing in looking after the comfort of his 

 "small gentlemen " guests ? The doctor felt my pulse, scz'ibbled a 

 worthless prescription, said he would not need to come again, he 

 thought, pocketed his ten rupees, and went away. 



In about a fortnight I was on my feet again, thanks to my own 

 quinine, and able to skin the big black monkeys (^S". cucuUatus), 

 which were brought me by the native shikarees. This was the 

 only mammal they were able to obtain for me, except the black- 

 naped hare (Lepus nigricoUis), 



During my last fortnight upon the Hills I became acquainted 

 with ]Mi-. G. A. R. Dawson and his excellent lady, both of whom 

 did all in their power to break the social monotony of my Ufe. 

 Mr. Dawson is an excellent artist and taxidermist, and was then 

 engaged upon the text of an illustrated work entitled "Neilgherry 

 SiDorting Reminiscences," which has since been pubhshed by Hig^ 

 ginbotham & Co., Madras. 



The illustrations, coming as they do from the hand of an artist 

 as well as a naturalist and sportsman, are truly beautiful and valu- 

 able. Mrs. Dawson is a musician of rare ability, who, at eight 

 years of age, travelled in the United States with Mrs. Bostwick's 

 concert troupe, plaj-ing solos upon the concertina. Until meeting 

 her in her charming Neilgherry home, I never for a moment sus- 

 pected what delighful music the concertina can be made to yield in 



