called upon some six or eight other magnates
of Umballah, for the time being; and on
returning to the mess-house, at the hour of Tiffin,
I was rather fatigued. The scene, however,
revived me considerably. There were seated
round the large table, in the centre of the
lonely room, some seventy or eighty officers
of all ranks, from the various regiments in
the station. There was to be a meeting held
that day at the mess-room, to discuss some
local matter, and the majority of those
present had been invited to "tiff " previously.
No one was in uniform—at least not in military
uniform—all wore light shooting-coats
and wide-awake hats covered with turbans.
The local question—touching the best
means of watering the mall, where the
residents used to take their evening ride or drive
—having been discussed, the party broke up.
Some went to the different billiard-rooms to
play matches (for money, of course); others
retired to private bungalows to play cards, or
read while reclining on a couch or a bed, or a
mat upon the floor. Every one smoked and
sipped some sort of liquid. It was to a
room in my friend's bungalow that eleven of
the party, inclusive of myself, repaired, to
wile away the time until sun-down, by playing
whist.

Never did the character of an officer's life in
India strike me so forcibly as on that afternoon.
There was an air of lassitude and
satiety about every one present. The day was
hot and muggy, and the atmosphere very
oppressive. It was a fatiguing bore to deal the
cards, take up the tricks, mark the game, or
raise to one's lips the claret cup which Sham
had been called upon to brew. Sham was
well known to most of the officers of the
regiment to which my friend belonged. He
had made their acquaintance (to use his own
words) when he was on the Governor-General's
staff.

The three men who had not cut in at whist,
were lounging about, and making ineffectual
attempts to keep up a conversation. The
shooting coats and the waistcoats were now
discarded, and the suspenders, and the shoes,
or boots; in short, each person only wore
strictly necessary clothing, while the native
(coolie), in the verandah was ever and anon
loudly called upon to pull the punkah as
strongly as possible. That room, that afternoon,
presented a perfect picture of cantonment
life in India, during the summer season,
between the hours of two and half-past five,
P.M. The body is too much exhausted to
admit of any serious mental exertion beyond
that which sheer amusement can afford; and
it is by no means uncommon to find your
partner or yourself dropping off to sleep when
called upon to lead a card, or fullow suit.
The three men who were sitting (or lying),
out, soon yielded to the influence of the
punkah, closed their eyes, and got up a snore
—each holding between his fingers the
cheroot he had been smoking.

Ah, yes! It is very bad to have to endure
the frightful heat, to feel one's blood on the
broil, even under a punkah, and with doors
and windows closed to exclude the hot air of
the open day. But what must it be for the
men, the privates, and their wives and
children? They have no punkahs; though it
has been shown that they might have them
at a trifling cost. They have no cold water
much less iced water, to sip; though they
might have it, if the authorities had the good
sense (to put humanity entirely out of the
question), to be economical of that invaluable
commodity in India, British flesh and blood.
They, the men of the ranks, and their wives
and children, have no spacious apartments
(with well fitted doors and windows), to move
about in; though there is no reason why
they should not have them, for the land
costs nothing, and labour and material is
literally dirt cheap in the upper provinces of
India.

"But, the Royal Infantry Barracks at
Umballah is a fine large building?" It
may be suggested. I reply: "Not for a
regiment one thousand strong." A regiment
mustering one thousand bayonets, to say
nothing of the numerous women and the
more numerous children. In a cold climate
it would be ample for their accommodation;
but not here, where, in a room occupied by
an officer, the thermometer frequently stands
at ninety-three degrees and sometimes at one
hundred and five degrees. In the matter of
ice. The reader must be informed how it is;
manufactured. During the "cold weather,"
(as the winter is always called), small
earthenware vessels of shallow build, resembling
saucers in shape, are filled with water, and
placed in an open field, upon a low bed of
straw. At dawn of day there is a coating of
ice upon each vessel, of about the thickness
of a shilling. This is collected by men, women,
and children (natives), who receive for each
morning's, or hour's work, a sum of money,
in cowries, equal to about half of a farthing.
When collected, it is carried to an ice-pit,
and there stored. The expenses are borne by
a subscription, and the amount for each ticket
depends entirely on the number of subscribers.
In some large stations, an ice ticket for the
hot season costs only three pounds. In smaller
stations it will cost six pounds. The amount
of ice received by each ticket-holder is about
four pounds, and is brought away each morning
at daylight, in a canvas bag enveloped in
a thick blanket, by the ticket-holder's own
servant. It is then deposited in a basket made
expressly for the purpose. In this basket is
placed the wine, beer, water, butter, and fruit.
The bag of solid ice is in the centre of all then,
and imparts to each an equal coldness. These
four pounds of ice, if properly managed, and the
air kept out of the basket, will cool an
inconceivable quantity of fluids, and will last for
twenty-four hours—that is to say, there will
be some ice remaining when the fresh bag is