of life. A Portuguese servant I had hired in Bombay cooked my dinner and
looked after me generally. We sailed along the sometimes bare, and
occasionally palm-fringed, shores with that indifference to time and
progress which is often the despair and not unfrequently the envy of
Europeans. The hubble-bubble passed from mouth to mouth, and the crew
whiled away the evening hours with their monotonous chants. We always
anchored at night; sometimes we stopped for fishing, and once ran into a
small bay--one of those charming scenic gems which can only be found in
the eastern seas--to land some salt and take in cocoa-nuts and other
items. As for the port of Mangalore, for which I was bound, it seemed to
be, though only about 450 miles from Bombay, an immense distance away, and
practically was nearly as far as Bombay is from Suez. At last, after a
nine days' sail, we lay to off the mouth of the harbour into which, for
reasons best known to himself, the captain of the craft did not choose to
enter, and I was taken ashore in a canoe to be kindly received by the
judge of the collectorate of South Kanara, to whom I had a letter of
introduction.

After spending some pleasant days at Mangalore I set out for Manjarabad,
the talook or county which borders on the South Kanara district--in what
is called a manshiel--a kind of open-sided cot slung to a bamboo pole
which projects far enough in front and rear to be placed with ease on the
shoulders of the bearers. Four of these men are brought into play at once,
while four others run along to relieve their fellows at intervals. I
started in the afternoon, and was carried up the banks of a broad river by
the side of which hero and there the road wound pleasantly along. In the
course of a few hours night fell, and then all nature seemed to come into
active life with the hum of insects, the croaking of frogs, and various
other indications of an abounding animal life. Presently I was lulled to
sleep by the monotonous chant of the bearers--sleep only partially broken