afford the same facilities, but they generally
make a much greater pretence of mystery. We
had a khitmutgar once who could not have
been more than eighteeen years of age, and he
had two wives, who assumed the airs of being
"purdah women"—that is to say, women who
can never be seen at all in public. These he
disdained to keep in his house in the compound,
contenting himself with bringing them there
occasionally, shut up in close palankeens, from
which they were smuggled into the hut with a
wonderful amount of precaution.

But we are lingering in the compound, and
have not yet entered the house.

The structure, seen from the exterior, may be
very ugly or very pretty, according to the taste
of the builder, or the tenant, or the resources
of either. The most conspicuous part is the
roof, which is of thatch, sloping on all four
sides, and extending to within some eight
or ten feet of the ground; it covers not only
the house, but the verandah, which is sure to
be some six or eight feet in breadth. The
verandah, of which the roof is supported by
pillars of greater or less pretensions, serves as a
protection against both the light and the heat,
which are very intimately associated in India,
where you cannot keep a room very cool unless
you keep it rather dark. Indeed, some persons
shade their apartments to such an extent, that the
occupants can scarcely see to read. The drawing-
room and dining-room are, in many bungalows,
situated in the centre of the building, so that no
light is admitted to them except through the
outer apartments, which open directly on the
verandah; but they are sometimes more pleasantly
placed. From the reception-rooms, in nearly all
cases, the bedrooms and dressing-rooms open,
and as doors are very uncommon contrivances
up the country, and curtains and screens are
the general substitute, that retirement from the
world which is achieved in England every night
by marching up-stairs and locking yourself in
your bedroom, is very difficult of accomplishment.
When half-doors, or screens, are in use,
in the hot weather, morning visitors are never
astonished if they see a bed in the perspective,
or any other indications of the interior economy
of the mansion; and if you have sought your
couch at all early at night, you need not be
surprised if you hear a great deal of the
conversation of those who are sitting up.

The furnishing of a house in the Mofussil is
a far more simple matter than in Calcutta. New
upholstery is a vanity of which nobody dreams.
There is a certain quantity of furniture in the
station, more or less old, which circulates among
the community, according to demand and supply.
When there is a departure from the station, the
departure's "things" are sold off, of course, the
residents take what they want, and the remainder
goes to a dealer. When there is an arrival, the
arrival takes what he can get, and furnishes at once
or by degrees, according to his luck or resources.
The departure or arrival of a regiment will
cause an important change, and a great many of
the station movables will be redistributed. To
meet the inevitable wear and tear incidental
even to Mofussil upholstery, the dealers will
occasionally speculate in new articles from other
stations, or even occasionally from Calcutta, and
will so give a relief to the general monotony.
But a Mofussil house, though adorned under
accidental and even precarious conditions, may
be made very agreeable to the eye. The walls
of your room are generally of whitewash, or
whitewash with a dash of colour, but the room
itself is so large that the roughness has no
unpleasing effect. On the floor, you will
probably have some coloured canvas, printed in
patterns to look like a carpet, or relieved in the
centre by a real carpet from Mirzapore, having
a very brilliant, if rather a hot, effect. Curtains
are not very general, but a great deal is sometimes
done in this way with a little white muslin.
The glass-doors, which are also the windows,
are shaded outside by green jalousies, or jilmils
as they are locally called; and when these are
thrown back, they are shaded by chiks—that
is to say, by blinds formed of thin strips of
wood, thinner than lucifer-matches—extending
across the doorway, and strung together just
close enough to keep out the flies, but not the
air or the light. These are very convenient, as
you have nothing to do but lift them aside when
you pass in or out; when painted in bright
colours they have a decidedly ornamental aspect.

The punkah is such a prominent article of
furniture, especially if there be more than one
in the room, that it is found desirable to make
it as pleasing to the sight as possible, and a
great amount of decoration is frequently bestowed
upon it. It is difficult to make anything very
graceful out of what in its unadorned state
looks like a broad wooden plank, extending the
width or the length of the room; but a great
deal is done by a little ornamental painting, and
a fancy frill (the latter being of especial use
in circulating the air); sometimes, instead of
the common wooden frame covered over with
canvas, which the apparent plank is in reality,
the frame will be made of carved mahogany, and
the place of the canvas will be supplied by red
plaited silk, like the fronts of cabinet pianofortes.
This is a gorgeous arrangement, and, to accustomed
eyes, seems such a necessary part of the
furniture, that after a little time the room would
look bare without it. You soon reconcile yourself
to its removal, however, when the cold
weather comes on, and to seeing nothing of it
for four or five months. This is only in the
Mofussil; in Calcutta the punkahs are rarely
taken down, though they are disused for a short
time in the year. Punkahs are most peculiar to
the Bengal Presidency. In Madras they are less
used, and in Bombay less than in Madras. The
operation of pulling is usually transacted in the
verandah: the rope being passed through an
aperture in the wall—a very convenient arrangement
as regards your bedroom.

The punkah, by the way, in the provinces, is
found sufficient—if you have a long frill,
sweeping as nearly on a level with your pillow
as will allow you to keep your head clear—to