CHAPTER XV.

ON BOARD THE "ROHILLA."

STEAMER "ROHILLA," NEAR MADRAS, Dec. 27, 1889.

Christmas was a fearfully hot day in Columbo, ninety degrees or more, and I did not go out in the morning, except to look into an Episcopal church, which was handsomely decorated with flowers, the air being kept cool by fans propelled by natives standing outside.

After lunch, accompanied by two friends, I drove around the city and some miles into the country, over splendid roads. On the road we bought three cocoa-nuts for five cents, and opening one, had a refreshing drink.

We returned at 5 P.M. and at once came aboard this ship, one of the finest of the splendid fleet of the P. & O. line. The weather, except the terrible heat, continues perfect--not a ripple on the sea, the sunsets splendid, and the starlit nights of great loveliness.

A lady from Hartford, Mrs. Brown, who is well up in astronomy, pointed out to me last evening many stars never seen except in this part of the world. A lady from New York, Mrs. R. H. L. Townsend, was taken seriously ill on the 23d at the hotel; she was confined to her rooms for three days, and had two doctors and a nurse; but just before I left for the steamer I was glad to see that she had recovered so as to be able to take a drive.

At the last moment the Captain decided to call at Madras, where we shall be to-morrow, long enough to go ashore and see the famous city. Four great steamers left Colombo the same evening that we did, one each for Australia, Calcutta, Singapore, and Hong-Kong; one of them being a German vessel of immense size, 7,000 tons. On this steamer we have all the modern improvements: Edison lights, an excellent table, and always plenty of ice. Life on the ocean, as we have it, is very pleasant, and we get along nicely, though they tell of terrific storms which rage here at other seasons.

The ship is full of passengers, largely English, returning from Australia, very nice, kind, and agreeable people. Yesterday a north wind sprang up and it was delightfully cool; the passengers were all on deck in groups, a dozen of the stalwart young Englishmen playing the national game, cricket; some reading, a lot of children playing, and all were happy.

In the evening we had a delightful concert by amateurs, violin playing by a young lady, parts of the "Bohemian Girl" and other operas being rendered in a superior manner.

The ship slowed up so as not to get to Madras before morning, and it was literally sailing on a summer sea; the moon sank down behind the waters in a glow, presenting a beautiful appearance. I had a good sleep all night, and at seven in the morning looked out and saw we were at Madras, between two long break-waters. Soon breakfast was over, and we all entered a big row-boat, propelled by ten bare-backed Hindoos; the ship was surrounded by a dozen of these boats, the crews chattering and shouting, and on one occasion a boy got overboard, but he did not mind, swam about a short time and then got aboard, none the worse for his ducking.

We could see that there was a heavy surf beating on the beach, but when our boat struck the sand, I was lifted ashore by two strong black men, followed by the ladies of the party, conveyed in a similar manner. We took carriages and drove about the city, which is said to be the hottest in India, but we did not find it so; on the contrary, it was very comfortable. We went through the natives' quarters, and evidently they had seen white people before, for they paid no attention to us, not so much as we to them, as we were looking upon a race new to us. They had marks on their foreheads, showing the caste to which they belonged. We visited the markets, and saw that the banyan tree was quite common in the squares and along the streets, and passing on to the great fort, we looked at the big guns; then we entered St. George's Church, where there were many statues of famous soldiers who had served in India and died here. We called at the post-office, a large and beautiful building, remarked on the fine roads, the handsome appearance of the women dressed in bright-colored robes with silver ornaments in their noses and on their toes, and then we passed on to the ship, well pleased that we were not to stop any longer in such an unattractive place.

Sunday, December 29, 1889.

We reached the steamer at noon yesterday; the deck was crowded with native merchants trying to sell mats and all kinds of curios, but presently they were driven off to their boats, and at noon the ship was put upon her course, due north, everybody comfortable and happy, the sea as smooth as an inland lake. This morning we had a delightful service on deck, read from the English Prayer Book by the Captain, assisted by one of his officers; the singing, by young ladies, was particularly fine, and now and again I could detect the sweet tenor of my friend from Manchester.

Before the service the crew were mustered and reviewed by the Captain. There were nearly one hundred of them, mostly Lascars, dressed in white with colored turbans and presenting a very picturesque appearance.

Last evening I was interested to see a lady reclining on a steamer chair on deck, and reading by the light of a portable electric lamp fastened to the back of her chair. I interviewed her husband this morning, and he informed me that it was one of Edison's inventions, and that they were now common in London, and cost twenty dollars each. They are four inches in diameter, and can be carried in the coat pocket. This one he charges from one of the lights on the ship, and it will last fifteen hours.

December 30, 1889.

We are still rushing on over a placid sea at a moderate rate, as the ship has never made more than 288 miles a day. The thermometer marks seventy degrees, with a light breeze from the north, and warm woollen clothing is comfortable. This is a great country for learning practical temperance, none of our party having tasted liquor for a month, previous experience having shown that they were much better without it.

I noticed two young men at dinner to-day who drank two large bottles of champagne, but they will doubtless find out by experience that such indulgences do not pay in this climate. We are only 12,500 miles from New York now, and it seems quite like nearing home.