At the Indian breakfast proper, all sorts of viands are consumed; from the curried prawns and Europe provisions (which arrive in an hermetically sealed condition per s.s. _Nomattawot_), to the rooster who heralds your arrival at the _dak_ bungalow, with much crowing, and who within half an hour of your advent has been successively chased into a corner, beheaded, plucked, and served up for your refection in a scorched state. I have breakfasted off such assorted food as curried locusts, boiled leg of mutton, fried snipe, Europe sausages, _Iron ishtoo_ (Irish stew), _vilolif_ (veal olives, and more correctly a dinner dish), kidney toast--chopped sheep's kidneys, highly seasoned with pepper, lime-juice, and Worcester sauce, very appetising--parrot pie, eggs and bacon, omelette (which might also have been used to patch ammunition boots with), sardines, fried fish (mind the bones of the Asiatic fish), _bifishtake_ (beef steak), goat chops, curries of all sorts, hashed venison, and roast peafowl, ditto quail, ditto pretty nearly everything that flies, cold buffalo hump, grilled sheep's tail (a bit bilious), hermetically-sealed herring, turtle fins, Guava jelly, preserved mango, home-made cake, and many other things which have escaped memory. I am coming to the "curry" part of the entertainment later on in the volume, but may remark that it is preferable when eaten in the middle of the day. My own experience was that few people touched curry when served in its normal place at dinner--as a course of itself--just before the sweets. "Breakfast with my tutor!" What happy memories of boyhood do not the words conjure up, of the usually stern, unbending preceptor pouring out the coffee, and helping the sausages and mashed potatoes--we always had what is now known as "saus and mash" at my tutor's--and the fatherly air with which he would remind the juvenile glutton, who had seated himself just opposite the apricot jam, and was improving the occasion, that eleven o'clock school would be in full swing in half an hour, and that the brain (and, by process of reasoning, the stomach) could not be in too good working-order for the fervid young student of Herodotus. The ordinary breakfast of the "lower boy" at Eton used to be of a very uncertain pattern. Indeed, what with "fagging," the preparation of his lord-and-master's breakfast, the preparation of "pupil-room" work, and agile and acute scouts ever on the alert to pilfer his roll and pat of butter, that boy was lucky if he got any breakfast at all. If he possessed capital, or credit, he might certainly stave off starvation at "Brown's," with buttered buns and pickled salmon; or at "Webber's," or "the Wall," with three-cornered jam tarts, or a "strawberry mess"; but Smith _minor_, and Jones _minimus_ as often as not, went breakfastless to second school.