intending to pass round by way of Dumoh, Sangor, Bhilsa and Sanchi
to Bhopal. We might have pursued a route somewhat more direct by
following directly down the valley of the Nerbadá to Hoshangabad,
and thence straight across to Bhopal, but my companion preferred
the circuitous route indicated, as embracing a greater variety of
interesting objects. He had procured for our conveyance a vehicle
which was in all respects suitable to the placidity of his temper; and
I make bold to confess that, American as I am--born on the railroad,
so to speak--I have never enjoyed traveling as I did in this novel
carriage. It was what is called a _chapaya_. It consisted of a body
nearly ten feet in length by more than five in breadth, and was
canopied by a top supported upon sculptured pillars of wood.
The wheels were massive and low. There were no springs; but this
deficiency was atoned for by the thick cushionment of the rear portion
of the vehicle, which allowed us to lie at full length in luxurious
ease as we rolled along. Four white bullocks, with humps and horns
running nearly straight back on the prolongation of the forehead line,
drew us along in a very stately manner at the rate of something like a
mile and a half an hour.

We were now in the Góndwana, in some particulars one of the most
interesting portions of the country. Here are the Highlands of Central
India; here rise the Nerbadá and the Tapti--which flow to the westward
in a generally parallel direction, and empty into the Gulf of Cambaye,
the one at Broode and the other at Surat--as well as the Sôn, the
Keyn (or Cane) and the Tonsa, which flow northward into the Jumna. The
valley of the Keyn and that of the Tonsa here run across the Vindhyas,
which are known to the eastward of this as the Kyrmores, and afford
communication between Northern and Southern India. It is along the
depression of the latter stream that the railway has been built from