The country is a mixture of shabbiness and gorgeousness, pathos and childishness. Some of us appear very giddy out there, because if we did not, we should cry; so ride and dance, keeping up a ceaseless round of activity, we _say_ because it keeps us in health, which in a measure no doubt it does, it also leaves no time for thoughts of home and regrets. The music of the country is quite peculiar to itself, so is the dancing, which is poor and monotonous, but, of course, I am speaking of some years ago, now possibly the Princes are asking their bandmasters the names of the morsels being played to them, and are told, as really happened I believe to Queen Victoria once, who, on hearing a particularly bright tune being played, asked its name. Nobody seemed able, or inclined, to inform her, but she was determined to know, and sent specially to the band to ask, the messenger returned looking a little uncomfortable, and said it was called “Come where the booze is cheaper.” Probably tunes of that sort are now the order of the day, having travelled with the motor-car and latter-day luxuries. During the winter in India, singing quadrilles were the fashion, and had to be rehearsed frequently, it was rather funny to see Lord William being schooled into singing his part of “Ba ba black sheep, have you any wool?”; he learnt “Where are you going to, my pretty maid?” much quicker. It is astonishing the amount of talent that is represented at times in the hill stations in summer, it is by no means uncommon to have really good Christy Minstrels, concerts and even high-class oratorios. (I suppose the latter ought to have been mentioned first). Lord William did not take part in the big game shooting unless he had to go officially, as it bored him to tears, but he loved pig-sticking more than any other form of sport, and used to get a good deal of it from Calcutta. He belonged to the Calcutta Tent Club, and always said the best days he had were when with his friend “Archie Hills, on his own land at Packabari.” Mr. Hills, if I remember right, was an indigo planter. He appears in the pig-sticking group. For those unacquainted with this form of sport I will explain it briefly. The game can be played by one alone, but usually by three or four men who go out together mounted on horses, and armed with spears to hunt and slay the boar. My own humble opinion is that Arabs are the pleasantest mounts for this form of sport, they seem to understand the broken ground better than any other class of horse and are sure-footed.