the tomb. Mr. Blackie begged us to go back to his place for the night,
but we wouldn't hear of it. Autolycus ran a lamp to earth; we explored
for bedrooms and found two, in which he hastily made up beds. They are
damp, and far from clean; but one learns to put up with a lot in the
Mofussil, and in a very short time we had forgotten our troubles in
sleep.

This morning I rose betimes and went out to the verandah, and there
I found--quite suddenly--a handsome young man. It seems he too is
staying in this eligible mansion. He is an engineer--a bridge-builder,
I think--and this is convenient for his present work. He was in
bed and asleep, and didn't hear us arrive last night; so he was as
surprised to see me as I was to see him. When Boggley appeared we had
breakfast together. It was interesting hearing about the kind of life
this young man leads. He says although Madhabad is not gay, it is
Piccadilly compared to where he often is, out in camp, forty miles
from another European, with not a soul to speak to from week to
week. The evenings are the dreariest times, and he often goes to bed
immediately after dinner. He was quite cheerful, and said he liked
the life. Madhabad is a large village, but the Blackies are the only
Europeans. There are a lot of planters, however, living round about.
We had callers this morning. Mr. Royle, to whose place we go on
Monday, rode over with his two small daughters, to say they would
expect us to stay with them. We meant to camp, but it will be much
pleasanter to stay with the Royles; everyone says they are charming
people.

Boggley and I went for a walk after tea to see the country. There
isn't much to see except a long, straight brown road and a most
insanitary-looking tank. The village is more interesting with its
queer booths. I do think it is an incongruous sight to see, as I
saw this afternoon, a native, naked but for a loin cloth, plying
a Singer's sewing-machine. The natives looked sullen and rather
suspicious, or is it only that I imagine it because they are so unlike
the broad-smiling Santals with their cheerful _johar_? There are four
trees before this bungalow, and at present two vultures are perching
on each--horrible creatures, with long, scraggy necks. I pointed them
out to Boggley, who was immediately reminded of a tale of a bumptious
young civilian, new to the country, who was told, by one who had
suffered many things at his hands, that the birds were wild turkeys, a
much