A LONELY BUNGALOW. 
blackened by fire. We make for the bungalow, in which 
was a room 10 feet square allotted for my residence. 
It had one door and window, juafc common planks nailed 
together, no glass; if the weath' r was windy, w e could not 
shut the door or window, because there would be no 
and light. The furniture consisted of a bed, a couch, one 
chair, and a table ; bedroom, parlour, dining-room, office, 
all in one, 10 feet square; there was no Htclien. A coolie 
boy was general servant, two earthen chatties all the 
kitchen utensils, and the kitchen itself, a corner in the 
open verandah. My storeroom was under the bed, but it; 
was ample for all the storage, which was just a bag of 
rice, a few salt fish, and some condiments, or curry stuffs, 
a jar of salt, a bottle oP tea, and a box of ship biscuits. 
Nothing around was to be seen but forest, not a blade 
of grass : far as the eye could see the horizon was bounded 
by this perpetual junj.de. 
A sense of utter loneliness came over me ; it was worse 
than being at sea : the ship moves and we get out of the 
waste of water in time, but hero is a fixture in the settled 
gloom of never-ending I'orest. Frequently, as evening 
approached, enveloped in thick mist, not a sound was to 
be heard but the sharp bark of the red elk, the screani 
(d the night-hawk, varied by ihe crashing of elephants in 
tlie forest. The birds have no song during the day, 
insect sound is mute, and the silence can almost be felt. 
The moaning sound of the wind passing over the forests 
serves also to increase the feeling of gloom. 
As evening set in, a dense mass of dry mist wouhl 
settle down all round, so thick, that a friend used to 
say it put out his tobacco pipe. Three or four yards 
from the bungalow nothing could be seen : coolies 
arriving on necessary business suddenly appeared be- 
fore you as if they had dropped from the clouds, 
whereas they had only come out of the mist. The 
planter’s bungalow of the olden times was built of 
wattle and mud, thatched with grass, mud floor, and no 
ceiling, with glass windows or doors very rarely to be 
seen. Often during the still twilight in 1868, when 
reclining in my comfortable bungalow, the glow of a fire 
of wood slumbering on the hearth, snug comfortable 
mats and window curtains, undisturbed by the roar 
of water and dashing of the south-west monsoon rains, 
have I thought of the days of old, then the inhabitant 
of a mud hut. On such a night as this the elephants 
once amused themselves by tearing the thatch off my 
roof, and were only frightened off by throwing out of 
the hole which served for a window red-hot sticks from 
the fire-place. 
An additional clearing having been formed further back 
into the jungle, the time OJ.ce more arrives for another 
movement. Grass huts were erected for the coolies, and 
