the rifle unpacked; but,
although it proved to be (as I had said) a large-bore Express, the Baboo
refused, like a very Pharaoh, to let it go, and I, after a two-hour
vexatious delay, paid the duty on my own guns, and, leaving a note for the
chief Customs official, explaining the case and begging him to send the
rifle on forthwith, packed myself--hot, hungry, and angry--into a "gharri,"
and set forth to the Devon Place Hotel, whither the rest of the party had
preceded me.

I have gone into this little episode somewhat at length in order to
impress upon the voyager to India the necessity for limiting the number of
firearms or getting a friend to father the extra ones through the
Customs--a perfectly simple matter had one foreseen the difficulty. Also
the danger of taking parcels for friends--of which more anon![1]

The Devon Place Hotel may be the best in Karachi, but it is pretty bad....
I am told that all Indian hotels are bad--still, the breakfast was a
considerable improvement on the _Marie Valerie_, and we sallied forth as
giants refreshed to have a look at Karachi and do a little shopping. It
being Sunday, the banks were closed, but a kindly shopman cashed me a
cheque for twenty pounds in the most confiding manner, and enabled us to
get the few odds and ends we wanted before going up country--among them a
couple of "resais" or quilted cotton wraps and a sola topee for Jane.

Karachi did not strike us as being a particularly interesting town, but
that may be to a great extent because we did not see the best part of it.
On landing at Kiamari we had only driven along a hot and glaring mole,
bordered by swamps and slimy-looking flats for some two miles. Then, on
reaching the city proper, a dusty road, bordered by somewhat
suburban-looking houses, brought us to the Devon Place Hotel, near the
Frere station. After breakfast we merely drove into the bazaars to shop
before betaking ourselves to the station, in good time for the 6.30 train.

Passengers--at least first-class passengers--were not numerous, and Major
Twining and I had no difficulty in securing two compartments--one for our
wives and one for ourselves.

An Indian first-class carriage is roomy, but bare, being arranged with a
view to heat rather than cold Two long seats run "fore and aft" on either
side, and upon them your servant makes your bed at night. Two upper berths
can be let down in case of a crowd. At the end of each compartment is a
small toilet-roo