Anglo-Indians. They don't like to talk about such unpleasant things. A
friend is suddenly and unexpectedly snatched away from social circles,
but his death is seldom or never mentioned, just as if a secret and
united agreement of taciturnity had been entered into by the survivors.
Once I was invited to dine at the table d'hote of the officers at the
military station Dum-Dum, a few miles from Calcutta. I drove out there
in the evening, and at eight o'clock I had dinner in company with about
forty officers, the majority of whom belonged to the Scotch frontier
regiment. Col. Chapman, one of the party, was a jolly old Scotch warrior
and Lieut.-Col. Hill was my host. After a splendid dinner such as India
alone can offer, the company grouped themselves around several
whist-tables according to the custom in the higher circles among the
English. Col. Chapman was my partner, and we parted company at one
o'clock. I accompanied Lieut.-Col. Hill to his villa, and retired for
the night. At eight o'clock the next morning he entered my room with the
sad news that he was just returning from the funeral of Col. Chapman.
The stern old warrior who returned unscathed from twenty battle-fields
was attacked by the cholera at two o'clock, died at four o'clock, and
was buried at six o'clock. Such is life in India.

At the foot of the Himalayas is a very extensive territory called Teraj.
Its soil is very fertile and adapted for tea culture. The whole
territory is covered with timber, bushes and other plants, which, with
the exception of certain cultivated portions, form an impenetrable
jungle, affording a natural resort for tigers, leopards, and other wild
beasts. The lofty mountains and the dense jungles shut out the sun, and
the whole region is full of poisonous vapors which are never dispelled.
It would be almost certain death for an European to live there for any
length of time, and it is customary even in passing through the country
on the railway train to take double doses of quinine as a precaution.
The fever and cholera which are thus generated in the jungles and spread
through the rice fields cause terrible ravages, not only among the
Europeans, but also among the natives. Medical science has done a great
deal to mitigate this evil, and the cholera, at least, has been
carefully studied and controlled by the medical department of the
Anglo-Indian army, so at present the malady is not feared so much as
might be expected. The germs of the