was a model plantation. Unfortunately, it had the
character of extreme unhealthiness. Of my three predecessors two had
died of fever and one as before mentioned. The coolie death-rate was
shocking; so bad that, during my management, a Government Commission was
sent to look into the situation, and the absolute closing of the garden
was anticipated. The result was that I was debarred from recruiting and
importing certain coolies from certain districts in India, they being
peculiarly susceptible to fever and dysentery. Almost every day at
morning muster the doctor reported so and so, or so many, dead, wiped
off the roll. Naturally the place suffered from lack of labour, a
further draining of the force being the absconding of coolies, running
off, poor devils, to healthier places, and the stealing of my people by
unscrupulous planters.

On several occasions, when riding home on dark nights, have I detected
white objects on the side of the road. Not a movement would be seen, not
a sound or a breath heard, only an ominous, suspicious silence reigned;
it meant that these were some of my people absconding, being perhaps led
off by a pimp from another garden--and woe betide the pimp if caught. I
would call out to them, and if they did not respond would go after them;
but generally they were too scared to resist or to attempt further to
escape; so I would drive them in front of me back to the garden, inspect
them and take their names, try to find out who had put them up to it,
etc., and dismiss them to the lines in charge of the night-watchman. You
could not well punish them, though a good caning was administered
sometimes to the men. Thus the plantation, instead of presenting a
clean, well-cultivated appearance, had often that of an enormous
hayfield; nevertheless the output and manufacture of tea was large and
the quality good. All that I myself could and did take credit for was
this "quality," as the prices obtained in Calcutta were the best of all
the Company's gardens.

At Scottpore there was no lack of neighbours. My bungalow was on two
cross-roads, a half-way house so to speak; consequently someone was
continually dropping in. Frequently three or four visitors would arrive
unannounced for dinner; the house was always "wide open." Whisky, brandy
and beer were always on the sideboard, and in my absence the bearer or
khansamah was expected, as a matter of course, to offer refreshments to
all comers. The planter's code of hos