THE BHORe Ghâut.

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ample supply of water to irrigate the fields; and it pays better than other crops.

At 12.30 on 16th February we left by train for Bombay. At this time of year the country on the route is more dreary and burnt-up than any we had seen in India. The bare conical hills have a Scotch-like appearance.

In a little over two hours we arrived at the beginning of the descent of the famous Bhore Ghâut, one of the most remarkable engineering feats in the world, and were detained a long time by a landslip, which had blocked the line

shortly before, near Kundala. In a very few

miles the railway descends more than 1,800 feet. At one point there is a reversing station, the engine changing its position. There are many tunnels; and the views of the plain far down below-of overhanging peaks, deep gorges and precipices—are very fine. The fact of there being more deciduous trees than usual on these slopes detracts from the beauty of the scenery in the winter. At Callianee Junction, where the Calcutta line branches off, there are some very fantastically-shaped hills; and here are the

prettiest station garden and flowers which we had seen in India.

Bombay strikes one, on returning to it, as, after all, in point of public buildings and streets, much the handsomest town in the country. About Elphinstone Circle and the Esplanade it will in these respects bear comparison with some European capitals; and the drive round. Cumballa and Malabar hills, among the delightful bungalows, which overlook the Indian Ocean on the north, and get the benefit of its refreshing breezes, is one of the most beautiful of its kind anywhere to be seen.

On Sunday I went out to Parek, to lunch with Sir James Fergusson, the able Governor of the Presidency, who, on account of severe domestic affliction, had not been able to ask us to stay with him, as proposed; and in the evening we attended divine service at the Free Church of Scotland.

At Agra we had met, in the hotel, Dr. Partridge, Brigade-Surgeon, who has a beautiful villa-Bella Vista-on Cumballa Hill, and who is actively engaged in missionary work during

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his spare hours. Like a good Samaritan and Christian as well, he had compassion on us in the dirty, dilapidated, mosquito-infected Adelphi Hotel, and insisted on our removing to his house on Monday, where we spent, fanned by the delightful northern breeze, our last days in India.

He took us in the afternoon to visit a Parsee house, in which reside seven sons and three daughters, all married, having, one of the ladies said, "dozens upon dozens" of children, and rejoicing in wonderful barrel-organs. Then there were dinner and luncheon parties, a ball given by the bachelors of Bombay in a fine native house at Malabar Point, horse-races at Byculla, and a variety of other engagements and amusements for old and young. I counted eighteen cotton factories from the balcony of the spacious Byculla Club.

The day before leaving I paid a visit to the Free Church Mission Establishment, where Dr Wilson so long laboured, and where 500 scholars are now being taught; lunched with the Governor in the Secretariat, went off to see the Fumna

transport, and then drove round Malabar and Cumballa Hills. Some parts of the former,

with its villas and

Mustapha at Algiers.

flowers, remind me of

The latter has the purer,

fresher air, and will surely become the favourite suburb of Bombay. Warden Road, leading along the sea to Breach Candy, is the paradise of nurserymen and maids in the evening.

CHAPTER XIV.

DEPARTURE FROM INDIA.

How charming was our last night in India ! The moon shone through the palm-trees upon the spacious balcony of Bella Vista; and we felt a sort of melancholy steal over us as we thought of the kind friends from whom we were to part-a dear daughter whom we might not see again for years, and a country to which we were about to say good-bye for ever. The seabreeze sighed among the branches, and the waves of the Indian Ocean, breaking gently on the rocks, were our lullaby.

As the clock struck five on Thursday afternoon, 23rd February, the Venetia's anchor was raised; and before we sat down to dinner I had my last look of India. The north-east monsoon was blowing, and for thirty-six hours the ship rolled a good deal; but by Saturday morning the wind died away, and at noon that day we had run 309 miles-quite a feat for a P. and O.