ductive punkah, besides an
interesting and instructive tete-a-tete with a Eurasian civil officer
spending the day here. Among other startling confidences, this
olive-tinted gentleman declares that to him the punkah is unbearable, its
pendulous, swinging motion invariably making him "sea-sick."

Through a country of alternate sandy downs and grazing areas my road
leads at length through the territory of the Rajah of Sir-hind.
Picturesque and impressive fortresses, and high, crenellated stone walls
around the villages give the rajah's little dominion here a most decided
mediaeval appearance, and dark, dense patches of sugar-cane attest the
marvellous richness of the sandy soil, wherever water can be applied.
Moreover, as if to complete the interesting picture of a native prince's
rule, on the road is encountered a gayly dressed party in charge of some
youthful big-wig on a monster elephant. A thick, striped mattress makes a
soft platform on the elephant's broad back, and here the young voluptuary
squats as naturally as on the floor of his room. Some of the attendants
are dancing along before him, noisily knuckling tambourines and drums,
while others trudge alongside or behind. The elephant regards the bicycle
with symptoms of mild apprehension, and swerves slightly to one side.

The police-officer of Kermandalah chowkee, just off the Rajah of
Sirhind's territory, voluntarily tenders me the shelter of his quarters,
just as the sun is finishing his race for the day by painting the sky
with fanciful tints and streaks. The long, straight avenue which I have
wheeled down, for miles hereabout runs east and west. The sun, rotund and
fiery, sets immediately in the perspective of the avenue; and at his
disappearance there shoot from the same point iridescent javelins that
spread, fan-like, over the whole heavens. A sight never to be forgotten
is the long white road and the ribs of the glorious celestial fan meeting
together in the vista-like distance; and--oh, for the brush and
palette and genius of a Turner!--one of the rainbow-tinted javelins
spits the crescent moon and holds it to toast before the glowing sunset
fires, like a piece of green cheese.

The heat of the night is ominously suggestive of shed's popularly
conceived temperature, and, in the absence of the customary punkah and
nodding, see-sawing wallah, a villager is employed to sit beside my
charpoy and agitate the air immediately about my head with a big
palm-leaf f