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WINTER INDIA
where a four-hour wait was enlivened by the departure of a wedding-party from the cantonment. Ladies in laces and pale pink gowns brightened the dark train-shed and platforms as they threw slippers and rice. Silk-hatted men in frock-coats and pearl trousers covered the rails with torpedoes that gave joyful salute as the wheels rolled over them. A gorgeously turbaned person in a gold brocade dressing-gown and silver-toed, green leather slippers, and who ought to have been one of the hill rajas we forever read about, caught the eye completely. Sad to say, he was only the coachman of a polo-playing hill raja who had sent the bride and groom to the train in his state landau.
