BELGAON Charles Johnston. Early November 1889. It was a heartening sight in the approaching twilight, to see the servants and orderlies, aided by It was a heartening sight in the approaching twilight, to see the servants and orderlies, aided by impressed village watchmen, clearing a fair space for the camp, under shady mango trees at the village of Belgaon. They scraped the sandy soil clean, laid on it a thick layer of sweet-smelling rice straw, and spread on this blue-and-white cotton carpets.
OUT-OF-DOOR-LIFE During the colder months (November-March) many Government officials were required to travel about their districts on inspection Camping life is, indeed, a delightful institution of India. The itinerary of the district tour is mapped out, and preparations are made for a three or four months’ gipsy existence under the skies, but accompanied with the refinement of comfort which the Anglo-Indian knows so well how to secure under such conditions; for tent-life has been brought to a high pitch of luxury.
AN INDIAN SCHOOL Charles Johnston. Early November 1889. We came back to our tents after a gallop in the cool of the morning, and found the little All at once the minas are silent, peering about in suspicious alarm; then, scolding shrilly, they rise and whirr away past our tent to a deeper shade, the grey squirrels seek safety in an upper branch, and even the busy woodpecker pauses for a moment to peep down into a glade beside us. The cause of this woodland panic was soon disclosed in the appearance of a Bengali village school of Pathshala, headed by a spectacled busybody.
THE PHANTOM PALKI. Charles Johnston. Late November 1889. I remember a certain camping ground in the cool heart of a mango grove. The lucid air was They were very respectful, nay, deferential, for all their kidnapping, and if I had had some breakfast, say some good coffee and rolls, it would not have been half bad. But I was beastly hungry and getting hungrier. What had become of Punaswami of the scarlet turban, I could not even speculate on.