The sun is now mounting in the sky. The hounds and terriers feel the
heat, so sending them home by the keeper, we diverge on our respective
roads, ride over our cultivation, seeing the ploughing and preparations
generally, till hot, tired, and dusty, we reach home about 11.30,
tumble into our bath, and feeling refreshed, sit down contentedly to
breakfast. If the _dak_ or postman has come in we get our letters and
papers, and the afternoon is devoted to office work and accounts,
hearing complaints and reports from the villages, or looking over any
labour that may be going on in the zeraats or at the workshops. In the
evening we ride over the zeraats again, give orders for the morrow's
work, consume a little tobacco, have an early dinner, and after a
little reading, retire soon to bed to dream of far away friends and the
happy memories of home. Many an evening it is very lonely work. No
friendly face, and no congenial society within miles of your factory.
Little wonder that the arrival of a brother planter sends a thrill
through the frame, and that his advent is welcomed as the most
agreeable break to the irksome monotony of our lonely life.




CHAPTER VI.


Fishing in India.--Hereditary trades.--The boatmen and fishermen of
India.--Their villages.--Nets.--Modes of fishing.--Curiosities
relating thereto.--Catching an alligator with a hook.--Exciting
capture.-Crocodiles.--Shooting an alligator.--Death of the man-eater.