their charge, every thing in your palankeen is safe. Even a lady may travel alone with them for hundreds of miles without apprehension. If she has a babe, it will find in those hardy men more than one tender and gentle nurse to carry and amuse the “chinna baba," (little baby.) In the cities, they are somewhat given to tricks, and many amusing stories are told of their impositions upon Griffins, as new-comers in India are styled. Sometimes the rider, deceived by their outlandish cries, thinks they are groaning under his weight. Filled with pity, and unable to endure their imaginary misery, as in the case of our worthy Captain P, they get out and walk in the sweltering sun, not a little to the astonishment of the bearers, who wonder why in the world the doorey (gentleman) should walk when he might ride.
At half-past eight in the evening we set out. As the two palankeens wound their way toward the gate with the spare bearers and the cavady-men trotting beside them, the torches of our musaljees cast a lurid glare along the dark, close-built streets of the city. Passing shops, and temples, and long rows of windowless houses, the loud cries of our escort created
