it, you know. I ran into a place just on an off chance the other day, and
the woman who owns it, a writer, said I could have it for a song. She
likes to have young people around—besides, it’s company for the spirits.
They come and visit her every evening and the noisy brutes won’t take
their boots off, so she thinks it time they were ousted. Come along, I’ll
show it to you. You’re meeting the gang? Sure bring them along ...
Here we are. Good afternoon, Miss Blumenthal . . .

Well, Algernon, and was it necessary for anyone to remark that
these old shacks are just thrown together, with the wind whistling through
the floorboards—and Susie, I wouldn’t have mentioned that we’d take
care of her first editions if we happened to feel like taking them home—
and it was such a nice fireplace, and the sunroom would have been ideal
for modelling—ah well.

INDIA’'S MODES OF LOCOMOTION

Let’s start with the commonest, the bullock cart. It carries the peasants to and from their villages
with their stores of grain, food, farm implements, wives and children, at an incredible speed of three
miles an hour. A further twist of the bullock’s tail ensures a more rapid bump along for a few short
paces, which makes one feel that it’d be far quicker and much easier on the person to get out and walk,
which I did, and left the bullock cart far behind knocking its wooden wheels against the rutted and hard
roads, The tonga’s next in line. It sounds like a very exclusive and unique mode of conveyance. It’s
unique all right and a step ahead of the bullock cart, in that is has springs. You bounce along ‘on a
little seat to the tune of bells around the horse’s neck. In front of you sits the driver with juice-
discolored lips. These contrivances are the taxicabs of India. At the driver’s feet is a pile of hay, which
by the sorry look of the horse serves as a camouflage, for he is the skinniest nag I’ve ever seen, and it’s a
wonder to me how he could even stand up, much less pull me and the carriage along. So I took compassion
on said horsie and lit up on a camel. A peculiar sensation, hard to describe. I found it much more
comfortable to keep it trotting as then it has a smooth, flowing gait. It left quite an imprint on my
feelings however, so gave it gratefully back to its owner.

I’ve come to the conclusion that a love for elephant-riding must be an acquired taste, for when
these huge pachyderms walk, they move both legs on one side at the same time. Seen from the ground
this seems a trifle, but on that undulating hill-top you feel like a ship on a stormy sea. While I’m glad
to have added this to a long list of curious sensations, I shall be satisfied henceforth to see someone else
enjoy it.

T’ll ride no more in little cabs that serve as railroad cars,
Each barely twenty feet in length and swayed by countless jars;
My bones are cracked by travelling in India’s jerky way;

Give me a pair of roller skates for all of them, I say.