be supposed that the wet season, summer, with its high temperature and
damp atmosphere, was very trying to the European, and even to the
imported coolies. Imagine living for six continuous months in the
hottest palm-house in Kew Gardens; yet the planter is out and about all
day long; nearly always on pony back, however, an enormously thick solah
toppee hat or a heavy white umbrella protecting his head. The dry, or
cold season, however, was delightful.

Close to Lucky Cherra Garden was a tract of bustee land on which some
Bengali cultivators grew rice and other crops. Our Company's boundary
line in some way conflicted with theirs, and a dispute arose which soon
developed into a series of, first, most comical mix-ups, and afterwards
into desperate "lathi" fights. The land in dispute was being hurriedly
ploughed by buffalo teams belonging to the Bengalis; to uphold our claim
I also secured teams and put them to ploughing on the same piece of
ground. This could only lead to one thing--as said before, terrific
lathi fights between the teamsters. For several days I went down to see
the fun, taking with me a number of the stoutest coolies on the garden.
The men seemed to rather enjoy the sport, though a lick from a lathi (a
formidable tough, hard and heavy cane) was far from a joke. Finally the
bustee-wallahs agreed to stop operations and await legal judgment.

After eighteen months I was suddenly left in sole charge of all the
Company's gardens, the Burra Sahib having finally succumbed to drink;
but I was not long left in charge, being soon relieved by a more
experienced man. Shortly after I was ordered to Scottpore Garden in
Cachar, the manager of which, a particularly fine man and a great
friend of mine, had suffered the awful death of being pierced by the
very sharp end of a heavy, newly-cut bamboo, which he seems to have
ridden against in the dark. He always rode at great speed, and he too,
in this way, was a victim of drink. The tremendously high death-rate
amongst planters was directly due to this fatal habit.

Scottpore was a new (young) garden, not teelah, but level land, having
extremely rich soil. The bushes showed strong growth and there were no
"vacancies"; indeed it was a model plantation. Unfortunately, it had the
character of extreme unhealthiness. Of my three predecessors two had
died of fever and one as before mentioned. The coolie death-rate was
shocking; so bad that, during my management, a Government Commission was
sent to look into the situation, and the absolute closing of the garden
was anticipated. The result was that I was debarred from recruiting and
importing certain coolies from certain districts in India, they being
peculiarly susceptible to fever and dysentery. Almost every day at
morning muster the doctor reported so and so, or so many, dead, wiped
off the roll. Naturally the place suffered from lack of labour, a
further draining of the force being the absconding of coolies, running
off, poor devils, to healthier places, and the stealing of my people by
unscrupulous planters.

On several occasions, when riding home on dark nights, have I detected
white objects on the side of the road. Not a movement would be seen, not
a sound or a breath heard, only an ominous, suspicious silence reigned;
it meant that these were some of my people absconding, being perhaps led
off by a pimp from another garden--and woe betide the pimp if caught. I
would call out to them, and if they did not respond would go after them;
but generally they were too scared to resist or to attempt further to
escape; so I would drive them in front of me back to the garden, inspect
them and take their names, try to find out who had put them up to it,
etc., and dismiss them to the lines in charge of the night-watchman. You
could not well punish them, though a good caning was administered
sometimes to the men. Thus the plantation, instead of presenting a
clean, well-cultivated appearance, had often that of an enormous
hayfield; nevertheless the output and manufacture of tea was large and
the quality good. All that I myself could and did take credit for was
this "quality," as the prices obtained in Calcutta were the best of all
the Company's gardens.

At Scottpore there was no lack of neighbours. My bungalow was on two
cross-roads, a half-way house so to speak; consequently someone was
continually dropping in. Frequently three or four visitors would arrive
unannounced for dinner; the house was always "wide open." Whisky, brandy
and beer were always on the sideboard, and in my absence the bearer or
khansamah was expected, as a matter of course, to offer refreshments to
all comers. The planter's code of hospitality demanded this, but it was
the financial ruin of the Chota Sahib, depending solely on his modest
salary.

At Scottpore I went in strong for vegetable, fruit and flower gardening,
and not without success. Visitors came from a distance to view the
flower-beds and eat my green peas, and I really think that I grew as
fine pineapples and bananas as were produced anywhere. The pineapple of
good stock and ripened on the plant is, I think, the most exquisite of
all fruits. A really ripe pine contains no fibre. You cut the top off
and sup the delicious mushy contents with a spoon.

In such a hot, steamy climate as we had in these tea districts, the
rapidity of growth of vegetation is, of course, remarkable. Bamboos
illustrate this better than other plants, their growth being so much
more noticeable, that of a young shoot amounting to as much as four
inches in one night. It sometimes appeared to my imagination that the
weeds and grass grew one foot in a like period, especially when short of
labour. The planter usually takes a pride in the well-cultivated
appearance of the garden in his charge; but how can one be proud if the
weeds overtop the bushes? It may be appropriate here to note that
eighty-five per cent. of the twenty-four hours' growth of plants occurs
between 12 p.m. and 6 a.m.; during the noon hours the apparent growth
almost entirely ceases.

Garden coolies are generally Hindoos and are imported from far-off
districts. The local peasantry of Bengal are mostly Mohammedans and do
not work on tea-gardens, except on such jobs as cutting jungle,
building, etc. They speak a somewhat different tongue, so that we had to
understand Bengali as well as Hindustani. I may mention here that as
Hindoos regard an egg as defiling, and Mohammedans despise an eater of
pork, our love for ham and eggs alienates us from both these classes;
what beasts we must be! The Hindoos and the Bengal Mussulmans are
characterized by cringing servility, open insolence, or rude
indifference. Contrast with this the Burmese agreeableness and
affability, or the bearing of the Rajput and the Sikh. In those days the
natives cringed before the Sahib Log much more than they do now. Then
all had to put their umbrellas down on passing a sahib, and all had to
leave the side-walk on the white man's approach; not that the law
compelled them to do so, it was simply a custom enforced by their
masters, in the large cities as well as in the mofussil.

We thought it advisable at all costs to keep the coolies in a proper
state of subjection. Thus, when on a certain occasion a coolie of mine
raised his kodalie (hoe) to strike me I had to give him a very severe
thrashing. Another time a man appeared somewhat insolent in his talk to
me and I unfortunately hit him a blow on the body, from the effects of
which he died next day. Some of these people suffer from enlarged
spleens and even a slight jar on that part of their anatomy may prove
fatal.

A few more notes. Among the Sontals in Bengal the snake stone, found
within the head of the Adjutant-bird, is applied to a snake bite exactly
in the same way and with the same supposed results as the Texas
madstone, an accretion found, it is said, in the system of a white stag.
Many natives of India die from purely imaginary snake bites.

In Oude there have been many instances verified, or at least impossible
of contradiction, of so-called wolf-children, infants stolen by wolves
and suckled by them, that go on all fours, eat only raw meat, and, of
course, speak no language.

The Nagas, a hill tribe and not very desirable neighbours, practise the
refined custom of starving a dog, then supplying it with an enormous
feed of rice; and when the stomach is properly distended, killing it,
the half-digested mess forming the _bonne-bouche_ of the tribal feast.

Snake stories are always effective. I have none to tell. My bungalow
roof, the thatch, was at all times infested by snakes, some quite large.
At night one frequently heard them gliding between the bamboos and
grass, chasing mice, beetles, or perhaps lizards, and sometimes falling
on the top of the mosquito bar, or even on the dinner-table; but these
were probably harmless creatures, as most snakes are. The cobra was not
common in Cachar. It may be said here that a snake's mouth opens
crossways as well as vertically, and each side has the power of working
independently, the teeth being re-curved backwards. Prey once in the
jaws cannot escape, and the snake itself can only dispose of it in one
way--downwards.

At Scottpore I employed an elephant for certain work, such as hauling
heavy posts out of the jungle. Sometimes his "little Mary" would trouble
him, when a dose of castor oil would be effectively administered.
Unfortunately, he misbehaved, ran amok, and tried to kill his mahout,
and so that hatthi (elephant) had to be disposed of.

When clearing jungle for a tea-garden the workmen sometimes come on a
certain species of tree, of which they are in great dread. They cannot
be induced to cut it down and so the tree remains. Such a one stood
opposite my bungalow, a stately, handsome monarch of the forest. It was
a sacred, or rather a haunted tree, but as its shade was injurious to
tea-plant growth I was determined to have it destroyed. None of my
people would touch it; so I sent over to a neighbour and explained the
facts to him, requesting him to send over a gang of his men to do the
deed. I was to see that they had no communication with my own people.
Well, his men came and were put to work with axes. The result? Two of
them died that day and the rest bolted. Yet this is not more
extraordinary than people dying of imaginary snake bites.

Shortly afterwards an incident occurred to still further strengthen the
native belief that the tree was haunted. I had a very fine bull terrier
which slept in the porch at night, the night-watchman also sleeping
there. One time I was aroused by terrific yells from the dog, and called
to the watchman to know the trouble. After apparently recovering from
his fright he told me the devil had come from the tree and carried off
the dog. The morning showed traces of a tiger's or leopard's pugs, and
my poor terrier was of course never seen again.

The hill tribes surrounding the valley of Cachar were the Kassias,
Nagas, Kookies, Munipoories and Looshais, all of very similar type,
except that the Munipoories were of somewhat lighter skin, were more
civilized and handsomer. The Kassias were noted for their wonderful
muscular development, no doubt accounted for by their being
mountaineers, their poonjes (villages) being situated on the sides of
high and steep mountains. All their market products, supplies, etc.,
were packed up and down these hills in thoppas, a sort of baskets or
chairs slung on the back by a band over the forehead. In this way even a
heavy man would be carried up the steep mountain-side, and generally by
a woman.

Once, in later years, whilst in Mexico, near Crizaba, I was intensely
surprised to meet in the forest a string of Indios going to market and
using this identical thoppa; the similar cut of the hair across the
forehead, the blanket and dress, the physical features, even the
peculiar grunt emitted when carrying a weight, settled for me the
long-disputed question of the origin of the Aztecs. In Venezuela