the Lime Tree, where we stayed before. Indian hotels are
about the worst in the world. We have sampled rough dens in Spain, in
Tetuan, and in Corsica--especially in Corsica, but then they are
unpretentious inns in unfrequented villages, whereas in India you find in
world-famous cities such as Agra or Delhi the most comfortless dens
calling themselves hotels--hotels where you hardly dare eat half the food
for fear of typhoid, and will not eat the rest because it is so unsavoury!

It may be argued that the hotels, if bad, are cheap, and that one cannot
reasonably expect much in return for five or six rupees per day; it seems,
however, that in a country where food and labour cost next to nothing, a
good landlord should be able to "do" his customers well upon five rupees,
and make a substantial profit into the bargain.

Probably, as the facilities for travel are rapidly increasing, and India
is now as easy to reach as Italy was in days not so long by, the hotels
will soon improve. Hospitality, which is still to-day greater in the East
than in our more selfish Western regions, and which has, until quite
recently, obviated for strangers and pilgrims the necessity for hotels, is
now unable to cope with the increasing flood of visitors and wanderers; as
the need becomes more pressing, so will the supply, consequent upon the
demand, improve both in quality and quantity; and we have already heard of
the new Taj Mahal Hotel at Bombay, the fame of which has been trumpeted
through India, and which is said to rival in luxury the palaces of Ritz!

The real and serious difficulty, and one which at present seems
insurmountable, is to secure cleanliness and safety in that Augean
stable--the cook-house. Until the native can be brought to understand the
inadvisability of using tainted water and unclean utensils, and of
permitting the ubiquitous fly to pervade the larder--until, I say, that
millennium can be attained, the danger of enteric and other ills will
always be very great in Indian hotels.

_Friday, October_ 13.--Lunch with Dr. Munro, who surprised us somewhat by
having married a wife since we played golf and bridge together at Gulmarg
only a few weeks ago. Tea, a farewell repast with our invalid--who goes
before a medical board in a few days, and who will then be doubtless sent
home on long sick leave--and the despatch of our heavy luggage direct to
Bombay, occupied us pretty fully for the day; and in the evening, after
dinner, w