During the years 1870 and 1871 the disease has increased among us at a most rapid rate.

The process of vaccination is as follows:-After the inoculating matter has been introduced, a small inflamed spot should appear on the third day. This spot should gradually rise, and on about the sixth day matter should be discerned in it. It is now at the stage when the matter may be used for communicating the disease by inoculation. The pustules should increase in size till the tenth day, after which they gradually die off. The truth is that the fluid dries up, and the skin which has been distended by it, collapses, forms a scab-which lasts about a fortnight-and on disappearing leaves a depression which is visible through life.

We use the word "inoculation," because we engraft one substance into another body; and "vaccination," because the matter which we engraft was originally taken from the cow, for which vacca is the Latin name.

CHAPTER XXVII.

A LADY'S OBSERVATIONS ON HER WAY FROM BOMBAY TO POONA TEN YEARS AGO.

These

To a lady lately arrived in India, few of the novelties which present themselves are more remarkable than the various modes of travelling she finds in use. naturally vary greatly in different parts of the country. Some are curious and comfortable; others-still curious, but very uncomfortable; nearly all are fresh to the European.

The means of transit used in towns where there are many Europeans are different in style from those common in remote cities, where the proportion of native Indian inhabitants is greater.

The English are said to carry their adherence to home customs from pole to pole; but this zealous

attachment to old habits seldom leads any lady in India to walk when she can be carried. Indeed, walking exercise for any time is scarcely possible; and one of her earliest anxieties, therefore, is on the subject of conveyance. In the principal towns of either of the three presidencies—that is, Bengal, Bombay, and Madras— English carriages may be obtained, and for common use are all that is wanted; but for travelling to a distance, some modified form of native conveyance is better. The palanquin, or palki (as it is always called), is useful, but holds only one person; and it requires some practice to become used to the jolting motion caused by being carried on the shoulders of men, in a long box supported on poles-the men, four in number, going at a rapid trot. A large long-bodied carriage of the waggonette class, drawn by bullocks, is commonly used for family travelling in country districts, and is arranged so that repose may be taken in it.

The journey between Bombay and Poona is one often taken by dwellers on the busy little Oriental island, and when made for the first time is full of interest.

The novel sights begin at the railway-station, and a few years ago, when the line was not carried up the Ghauts, at least three modes of conveyance must be used before arriving at Poona.

Round the station-gates, and inside the compound, or yard, dozens of the poorer class of natives might be seen squatting on the ground, with a true Oriental disregard of time, wasting hours in waiting for the starting of the train, which a sad experience had taught them will not wait for them should they be behind time. Pretty little brown-skinned, black-eyed babies roll in the dirt at their mothers' feet; lean beggars, with long matted hair, their bodies smeared in ashcoloured, yellow, or red stripes, are eagerly asking alms; consequential Parsees-in a dress compounded of that proper to their race with the boots, neckties,

gloves, and cane of an Englishman; noble-looking Brahmins, in white cotton dresses and red turbans striped with gold; Mussulmans, with bushy beard and whiskers dyed an orange-colour, in marked contrast to the closely-shaven Hindoo: these and many more make up a scene very striking to a stranger.

On the arrival of a carriage, a stir is caused in this crowd, and way made for the passage of the English lady into the waiting-room, an apartment which she enters only to leave; for it has an abominable odour, and is more than abominably dirty.

The railway-carriages are not constructed on quite the same plan as those at home; seats which can be raised or let down at will, are on two sides, and the compartments are separated by sliding-doors.

The journey, probably begun at night, is made in great part under-the light of stars-or moon. If the latter be nearly full, the aspect of the country is strangely lovely.

After passing the more populous parts of Bombay and the little village of Mahim hidden under cocoanut palms, and the districts in which the much-prized mango is grown, the train crosses by viaducts to the island of Salsette, and thence to the mainland of Hindostan. The country now begins to rise, but at first very gradually.

The comfort of the journey and the opinion formed of the scenery will be greatly affected by the time of year. If the hot season-which is at its height in Maybe near, the dry burning heat and fine penetrating dust make the traveller glad to resign moonlight views for the sake of breathing with comparative freedom, and escaping the tormenting stings (and nearly as tormenting buzz) of the mosquitoes, by having a lighted lamp and closed venetian shutters.

If, on the contrary, the time be August, during a pleasant break in the monsoon or rainy season, or even a little later, but still before the earth has reassumed its

parched and arid aspect, then the glitter of the moonlight on numberless streams running down the hills, the flash of the fireflies, the dark tints of the hedges of prickly-pear, the fields of rice and Indian-corn, and the everywhereabundant plantain-tree, with its long and gracefullybending leaves, will by their beauty charm away fatigue, and the often painful sense of drowsiness will be forgotten in admiration of a landscape, where all that by daylight would be out of harmony, is softened or unseen under the gloss and haze of the lesser light.

The train goes slowly, and the traveller is likely to find herself arrived at the foot of the Ghauts, with the moon gone down and an indescribable bustle and noise, inducing the idea that something is wrong; but nothing can be done in India without much talk, and the noise. and delay are matters of course. A dispute is being carried on between the servants (without whom no lady can travel) and the palki-bearers waiting to convey her up the mountain. In this dispute, if she is able to understand it, a lady of fair proportions may, perhaps, hear an allusion to her weight; or, if she is supposed to be rich, her wealth may be the subject discussed; for the wife of a "burra sahib" (great man) must, of course, pay in proportion to her rank, and it is but reasonable to charge more for carrying a lady weighing eleven, than for one weighing eight stone.

Sahib (the master himself), if he be on the journey, will probably prefer a "tattoo" (small pony) to being jolted in a palki, and for him too an agreement must be made. At last, however, the procession starts up the mountain-pass, relays of men attending to carry the palki in turn, with others trotting in front with lighted torches, whose lurid and fitful light falls on the swarthy coolies, and the barely visible rocks and foliage on either side of the twisting, and now steep, ascent.

After a time the bearers wish for rest; the palki is thereupon unceremoniously popped on the ground; the

men seat themselves, and the never-failing pipe, or "hubble-bubble" (as it is generally called), is produced and passed from one to another.

The temperature has for some time been getting colder, and the fire burning in a room in the railwaystation at the top of the Ghaut is most welcome.*

The chill silence which pervades nature waiting for the dawn, affects even the talkative Hindoos, and for a time there is repose-soon, however, broken by a call to take places in the train; and just as the shrieking crows are at their busiest, the jackals retreating to their lairs, and the vultures gorged with carrion, to their perches on the highest trees, the journey is resumed. Most lovely, even to the wearied traveller, is the sight of the sun rising over the mountain-peaks, tipping them with hues of rose and purple, never seen in our denser northern atmosphere.

Native Hindoo activity is now at its height. The buffaloes are being driven to their quarters for milking; and water-bearers, with skins filled at neighbouring tanks, are walking with their burdens on their backs. Women have been for hours grinding corn between two stones, singing some melancholy-sounding song in a minor key, as they cluster in family groups about the doors of their huts. Should it happen to be a "big day" (ie. a holy day), men and women in holiday clothes the latter bedizened with bracelets and toerings, ear-rings and nose-rings-are hurrying to some temple, carrying on their heads brass trays laden with offerings of fruit, flowers, and sweetmeats.

On reaching the railway terminus at Poona, the last change for this journey of eighty miles is made. It is likely that the traveller is expected, and either a European carriage will be in waiting, or a conveyance

*Since the above was written, the completion of the Bhore Ghaut incline of the Great Indian Peninsula Railway has rendered the short journey by road, above described, unnecessary.