Burton, Richard Francis: Goa, and the blue mountains: or, six months of sick leave (London, 1851)

THE LAND JOURNEY.

257

or you may try to bag one or two of the jungle
cocks, whose crowing resounds from the neigh-
bouring brakes.

Dinner! lovely word in English ears, unlovely
thing—hereabouts—for English palate. The beer
is sure to be lukewarm, your vegetables deficient,
and your meat tough, in consequence of its having
lost vitality so very lately.

You must take the trouble, if you please, of
personally superintending the departure of your
domestics. And this you will find no easy task.
The men who have charge of the carts never return
with their cattle at the hour appointed, and, when
at last they do, there is not a box packed, and
probably half your people are wandering about
the bazaar. At length, with much labour, you
manage to get things somewhat in order, witness
with heartfelt satisfaction the first movement of
the unwieldy train, and retire to the bungalow
for the purpose of getting through the evening, with
the assistance of tea, and any other little " dis-
tractions" your imagination may suggest.

Before retiring to rest you might as well look
to the priming and position of your pistols. Other-
wise you may chance to be visited by certain
animals, even more troublesome than sand-flies and