forgotten necessaries, with which his kind attention had
furnished me.

I left Calcutta to join Mr. Williams' camp on the 28th of January,
driving to Hoogly on the river of that name, and thence following the
grand trunk-road westward towards Burdwan. The novelty of
palkee-travelling at first renders it pleasant; the neatness with
which every thing is packed, the good-humour of the bearers, their
merry pace, and the many more comforts enjoyed than could be expected
in a conveyance _horsed by men_, the warmth when the sliding
doors are shut, and the breeze when they are open, are all fully
appreciated on first starting, but soon the novelty wears off, and
the discomforts are so numerous, that it is pronounced, at best, a
barbarous conveyance. The greedy cry and gestures of the bearers,
when, on changing, they break a fitful sleep by poking a torch in
your face, and vociferating "Bucksheesh, Sahib;" their discontent at
the most liberal largesse, and the sluggishness of the next set who
want bribes, put the traveller out of patience with the natives.
The dust when the slides are open, and the stifling heat when shut
during a shower, are conclusive against the vehicle, and on getting
out with aching bones and giddy head at the journey's end, I shook
the dust from my person, and wished never to see a palkee again.

On the following morning I was passing through the straggling
villages close to Burdwan, consisting of native hovels by the road
side, with mangos and figs planted near them, and palms waving over
their roofs. Crossing the nearly dry bed of the Damooda, I was set
down at Mr. M'Intosh's (the magistrate of the district), and never
more thoroughly enjoyed a hearty welcome and a breakfast.