160 EVERYDAY LIFE ON A 



aqueducts, at others buried deep in the ground. 

 For some reason it was not found to answer, 

 and now nothing remains but the turbine, the 

 ruins of the aqueducts, and here and there huge 

 iron pipes cropping out of the ground in most 

 unexpected places, looking like the open mouth 

 and head of some unknown monster. 



When the great engine employed at that 

 time was first set going a little child crept in, 

 unnoticed until too late to save it, and was 

 ground into such small pieces that not an atom 

 of it was seen again. The tradition has grown 

 in the lapse of time, and the coolies now believe 

 the place where it occurred to be haunted by 

 " Pressassies," and declare that this neglected 

 and now useless machinery invariably works all 

 night. They say they both see and hear its 

 movements, but when Rob begs that they will 

 call us, that we too may see, they always say 

 it is no use, for the " Pressassies," won't work 

 when a 4< Dorei " is there. It is inconceivable 

 how they can persuade themselves into this 

 belief, but I am quite convinced that it is with 

 them a genuine delusion, and not a pretence to 

 take us in. 



Another relic of the days of unstinted expendi- 

 ture is the broad terrace high up on the side of 

 a hill. It extends for about half a mile in 

 length, and is in many places supported by 

 walls of masonry from ten to twenty feet in 



