we
have time, for here are the Eden Gardens," replied Sir Modava.

"Not the Garden of Eden?" suggested Mrs. Belgrave.

"Only named for it; but it is a very beautiful garden in English style,
though the trees and plants are, of course, different. It has water enough
for variety; and there is no difficulty at all in getting it, for the city
is hardly above the river at high tide. All there is of the fort you can
see from here."

"But what are those things over the other side of the park?"

"They are all tanks; and, of course, they are to hold water. Each of them
has its name, generally Indian. Now we will walk across to the Chowringhee
Road, where the finest private residences of the city are situated. On our
left is the Government House, which we passed when we came in. It is a fine
building, and it has a large garden of its own."

"But what is it for?" asked the lady.

"It is the residence of the governor-general, generally called the viceroy;
and he has his offices there. Now, if you look beyond Fort William, you
will see the race-course."

"I don't care for that," replied Mrs. Belgrave, whose memories of the sport
were anything but pleasant.

"Near it is the presidency jail, and there are two hospitals farther
along."

The party walked along the road to view the residences of the nabobs, and
returned to the hotel, where they seated themselves on the large veranda
overlooking the street. The first thing Louis did was to look at a
thermometer he discovered on a post.

"How hot is it, Louis?" asked his mother.

"It isn't hot at all; it is only 70 deg.."

"The glass varies here from 52 deg. to 100 deg.; but we don't get the latter figure
except in summer," added Sir Modava.

"But you have awful cyclones here, an English lady told me last night,"
said Mrs. Belgrave.

"We do; but we never have them at this season of the year; they come in
May, September, and October, and sometimes in November the belated ones. In
1867 we had one in the latter month which destroyed thirty thousand native
houses; but you know they are built of bamboos and such stuff, and it does
not take much of a breeze to demolish them. Another in June, 1870, did
nearly as much damage."

"I should think the bore would make mischief here," suggested Louis.

"The monsoons here begin in July, and during their time the bore is the
most mischievous. The big wave comes up the river at the rate of twenty
miles an hour. All boats run for the mi