It was no easy matter to get on to the Cachar road from the back of the Residency, as there were many obstacles in the way. The inner garden was separated from the outer compound by a tall hedge, composed of thorns and sharp twigs. I had superintended the erection of this hedge myself. We had kept a great many cows, and they were always making their way into the flower-garden and destroying the rose-bushes. Nothing seemed to keep them out until we made this thorn hedge, and that, as I remarked to my husband when I took him to see it first, ‘was calculated to keep an army of men out if it came to the point.’ Fortunately, by the time I arrived at this hedge it had become much broken down, the result of the energy of those who had already gone through it. I found a convenient hole, and got through with comparatively little damage to my raiment; but my hands received a good many scratches, and my poor stockings were dreadfully torn. However, on I went, perfectly insensible as to who were travelling with me. The next obstacle was a mud wall, low enough on our side, but with a six-foot drop on the other. I found myself sitting on the top of this, wondering how I was going to make the descent of the other side, when someone gave me a gentle push, as a sort of warning that I was stopping the traffic, and I slid gracefully down on the other side into the arms of a friendly Bunnia, who also helped me down the river bank, which was very slippery and muddy. I fell two or three times, doing considerable damage to my already dirty dress; but I got to the water’s edge at last, and made a valiant effort to cross the river. Fortunately for us, it was March, and not April or May; for had these events taken place later in the year, I do not know how we should have crossed that river. But as it was the end of the cold weather, and the rains had not commenced, the stream was low and easily waded. I did not know how deep it was, for we had never crossed it riding, as we generally did Manipuri rivers. We had often thought of doing so, but the banks were so steep and slippery that my husband said it would do the horses no good to clamber down them, and then we might find the river too deep to ford. So with this delightful uncertainty about things, I made my first plunge, and stepped into the water, which was dreadfully cold. I had got into the middle of the stream, when I was overtaken by the doctor, who seemed rather astonished at finding me there alone. However, I explained to him that I had been too frightened to remain at the house when I saw so many people running away, and had managed fairly well up to that time, but I did not like the river.