I am feeling a little pale with all the excitement, and shall be glad
of the change to Darjeeling to-morrow. Next mail you shall hear all
about it--that is to say, if no person, seditiously inclined, derails
the train or does anything horrid. Some very dreadful things have been
happening lately, but I don't think there is much danger so long as we
keep far from the vicinity of dignitaries.


_Calcutta, New Year's Day_.

Wednesday already, the mail goes to-morrow, and I with so much to
write about.

To begin--we left Calcutta on Friday afternoon and got to the Ganges
about eight, when we embarked in a ferry-boat to cross the river.
It was quite a big steamer, with dinner-tables laid out on deck,
decorated for Christmas with palm-branches, Chinese lanterns, and
large, deadly-looking iced cakes.

On the other side, the train was waiting that was to take us to
Siliguri, and we lost no time in looking for places. Indian trains are
rather different from our trains. Each carriage has two broad seats
running lengthways, which pull out for sleeping berths, and two other
berths that let down from the roof. I found I had to share a carriage
with two other females, and an upper berth fell to my share.

The bearer arranged my bed, and Boggley took a glance round, asked if
I were all right, and departed to his own place. Isn't it a queer idea
to carry one's bedding about with one? Pillows, blankets, and a quilt,