At half-past seven we started on our way back. As we passed the jheel I shot a widgeon. At half-past eight got home, had a cold bath, and enjoyed my breakfast; and at dinner was very glad to have the hare and widgeon, for the expense of two pice. I often go out this way. The elephant belongs to the regiment which is stationed here. The exercise before breakfast is most healthy. One time we came upon a place in the midst of the jungle which I intend to visit again in the cold weather, when I shall have more time to examine it. April 15, 1843. [Sidenote: FURNITURE.] I will now endeavour to give you an idea of some of our arrangements. We have moved to the other side of the house in order to have our bed-room to the west; because the sea-breeze, which blows every night, is a south-west wind. The room in which I am sitting was my wife's dressing-room; the one I use is fifty feet long. Dressing-rooms are absolutely necessary in this country, because nothing is put into the sleeping apartment except the bed, because of the mosquitoes, which harbour in swarms wherever they can find shelter. The bed is never placed against the wall, but always in the middle of the room; and the feet are placed in pans of water, to prevent the white ants, centipedes, &c. from paying you a visit during the night. The room I am now in has one French window opening into the verandah in front, another towards the church, a door opening into the next room, and another into the godown or store-room. All these windows and doors are now open, and I am sitting as near the centre as I can, to catch what little breeze there is, for the weather is fearfully hot; the thermometer at noon about 90° in-doors. It is now eleven in the evening, and my wife is gone to bed. The floor, which is of cement (wooden floors are never used here on account of the white ant), is covered with a curious sort of matting, made of the leaves of the date-tree. We always use mats instead of carpets in India, because they are much cooler. The walls and the ceilings are whitewashed, the universal substitute for paper or paint in the Mofussil. When I say the ceiling, I mean the ceiling-cloths, which are great sheets of canvas covering the tops of the rooms, and fastened up with cords. Over my head swings a punkah or fan, about eighteen feet long and three wide, made of canvas stretched on a wooden frame, and also whitewashed. This hangs from the ceiling, or rather from some bamboos placed upon the ceiling. Suspended from the lower edge of the punkah is a sort of full flounce of white calico circling along the whole length. The punkah is swung backwards and forwards over my head by means of a long rope pulled by a bearer sitting in the verandah. This man is now fast asleep, but still he continues to pull the rope, and so he would do for hours if I required it.