DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.12673#0283
264 GOA AND THE BLUE xMOUNTAINS.
he is meditating a sudden halt, apply your spurs
to his sides and your heavy horsewhip to his flanks,
trusting to Providence for his and your reaching
the other side undamaged.
The Burleyar bungalow — a kind of half-way
house, or rather an unfinished shed, built on an
eminence to the right of the road,—informs us that
we are now within six miles of our journey's end.
The air becomes sensibly cooler, and we begin to
look down upon the sultry steaming plain below
with a sensation of acute enjoyment.
We might as well spend a day or two at Coonoor.
Ootacamund is at least ten miles off, and it is
perfectly useless to hurry on, as our baggage will
certainly not arrive before the week is half over, even
if it does then. Not, however, at the government
bungalow — that long rambling thing perched on
the hill above the little bazaar, and renowned for
broken windows, fireless rooms, and dirty comfort-
less meals, prepared by a native of "heathen caste."
We will patronize the hotel kept, in true English
style, by Mr. Davidson, where we may enjoy the
luxuries of an excellent dinner, a comfortable
sitting-room, and a clean bed.
A survey of the scenery in this part of the
he is meditating a sudden halt, apply your spurs
to his sides and your heavy horsewhip to his flanks,
trusting to Providence for his and your reaching
the other side undamaged.
The Burleyar bungalow — a kind of half-way
house, or rather an unfinished shed, built on an
eminence to the right of the road,—informs us that
we are now within six miles of our journey's end.
The air becomes sensibly cooler, and we begin to
look down upon the sultry steaming plain below
with a sensation of acute enjoyment.
We might as well spend a day or two at Coonoor.
Ootacamund is at least ten miles off, and it is
perfectly useless to hurry on, as our baggage will
certainly not arrive before the week is half over, even
if it does then. Not, however, at the government
bungalow — that long rambling thing perched on
the hill above the little bazaar, and renowned for
broken windows, fireless rooms, and dirty comfort-
less meals, prepared by a native of "heathen caste."
We will patronize the hotel kept, in true English
style, by Mr. Davidson, where we may enjoy the
luxuries of an excellent dinner, a comfortable
sitting-room, and a clean bed.
A survey of the scenery in this part of the