ain when the sky was positively burning with colour,
hoisted our sail, and with a light sea breeze went up river towards the
darkening groves of palms, guiding ourselves by the afterglow and the
glint of a new moon, and lights from the few bungalows on shore.

As we sail we plan to return some day and do up one of these old Arabian
Night bungalows. They look almost palatial with their terraces and
flight of steps from the river and white pillars showing in the pale
moonlight with dark palms and trees over them. They at the same time
suggest something of Venice, and of the Far East. They would need
repair, but rents are low.

It gets darker and we have difficulty in picking up marks--first the
rock on our right from which we go dead across stream, to the high palm
just visible against the night sky; then up stream a bit, and across to
avoid shoals. We row, for the wind has fallen away. Every now and then
our blades touch gravel, and twice we go right aground and have to
shove off. Fish jump round us; two come in forward, pretty little
silvery fellows with a potent smell of herring, one big fellow surges
nearly ashore. As the boat-house and club lights appear we go hard and
fast on to a bank, and a native wayfarer fording the river in the dark,
whom we mistake for a Club servant expecting us, is ordered to shove us
off, which he does and goes on his way without a word--"the gentle
Hindoo" again.

The Club boat-house is a perfect treat! By the lamplight I am sure I saw
a score of double sculls, sixes, and possibly eights, and skiffs and
punts--all sorts of river boats, and as far as I could see, all in
order; the men who have both such a Club and boat-house are to be
envied. The Club-house was a dream of white Georgian architecture,
veiled in moonlight amongst great trees and palms. There were high
silvery white pillars (Madras is famous for its marble white stucco) and
terraces and wide steps and yellow light coming from tall open jalousies
under verandahs. Winding paths led up to it, and along one of these we
followed a native, who swung a lamp near the ground in case of snakes.
In the Club were rooms for dining, reading, and dancing, all in the same
perfect Georgian style.

I would have liked to stay, to see the dance that was going to begin,
but it was late, and we were in flannels, and were three miles from
home. The ball-room was entirely to my taste, an oval, with white
pillars round it reflected in a light-colo