for a mere day halt.

The khansamah would appear to be the only functionary in residence until
the hour of departure draws near, when a whole party of
underlings--chowkidars, bheesties, and sweepers--appear from nowhere in
particular; and the lordly traveller, having presented them with about
twopence apiece, rolls off along the dusty white road, leaving the
khansamah and his myrmidons salaaming on the verandah.

We made the mistake of over-tipping at first in India, not realising that
a couple of annas out here go as far as a shilling at home; but it is a
mistake which should be rectified as soon as possible, for you get no
credit for lavishness, but are merely regarded as a first-class idiot. No
sane man would ever expend two annas where one would do!

On leaving Haripur the road began to ascend a little, and at the village
of Sultanpur we entered a valley, through which a shrunken stream ran, and
which we crossed more than once.

Then a long ascent of about eleven miles brought us near our destination.

It had been threatening rain all the afternoon, and now the weather made
its threat good, and the rain fell in earnest. It grew dark, too; and,
finally, not having had any reply to my telegram to General Woon, we did
not know whether we were expected or not.

Sabz Ali, however, had no doubts on the matter. We were approaching his
own particular country, and whether "Gen'l 'Oon Sahib" was there to
entertain us or not, _he_ was; and so it was "alright."

Our poor horses were done to a turn, a heavy landau with five people in it,
as well as a fair amount of luggage, being no trifle to drag up so long
and steep a hill. So we had to walk up the last rise to the General's
house in the dark and rain, mildly cheered, however, by finding the two
ekkas just arrived with the baggage.

A most hearty greeting from my old friend and his charming wife awaited us,
and after a hasty toilet and an excellent dinner we felt at peace with all
the world.

Both yesterday (Saturday) and to-day it has been cold and disagreeable.
The past winter, I am told, has been a very severe one, and the melancholy
brown skeletons of all the eucalyptus trees in the place show the dismal
results of the frost.

This forenoon the day darkened, and a very severe thunderstorm broke. So
dark was it at lunch that candles had to be lighted in haste, and even now
(4 P.M.) I can barely see to write.

_Thursday, March_ 30.--Monday was showery, and Tuesd