of dust that assail one on the line. Let the
authorities take hold of the fattest and the rosiest
of the station-masters and rip him open. Thus
dissected, the creature will emit such overwhelming volumes of dust as would cover a hundred Duxburys with shame and remorse. Insomnia and dysentery are said to be inseparable from railway service. And what wonder?
Public Roads and Personal Experience.
Immediately on alighting I entered the town of Billimora. It was a moonlit night, and I preferred walking. In the mofussil I generally walk, as, in driving, there is a chance of dislodging the liver. Billimorá dust is no way inferior to that of Broach—it is subtle, light, and knee-deep. The road leading into the town is said to be a made road; it may have been so before it was recently unmade. There is a romance about the road. A few years ago His Excellency the Rájá, Minister of the State, was driving on it at night, when, by some mishap, the ghari [1] upturned and deposited His Excellency's whole weight in the dust. That was a
- ↑ Carriage.
