I dare say
I would be wise to take the Moorwife's advice. You remember in _The
Will-o'-the Wisps are in Town_, when the man had listened to the
Moorwife's tale he said, "I might write a book about that, a novel in
twelve volumes, or better, a popular play."
"Or better still," said the Moorwife, "you might let it alone,"
"Ah," said the man, "that would be pleasanter and easier."
How true!
_Baratah, Thursday, Feb. 28_.
We are still in Baratah, as you see, and shall be till Tuesday. It
is a very nice life this nomadic existence, and one gets nearer the
people. They come in little groups and talk to Boggley outside his
tent, and I must say he is most patient with them and tries to do
his very best for each one of them. They make my heart ache, these
natives, they are so gentle and so desperately poor. Isn't it Steevens
who says the Indian ryot has been starving for thirty centuries and
sees no reason why he should be filled?
The Listers are home now and we have been seeing a lot of them.
They are delightful people. Mrs. Lister is quite a girl, and so
good-looking and cheery. She has the prettiest house I think I ever
saw. When we went to call the first time and were shown into the
white-panelled drawing-room with its great open blue-tiled fireplace
and cupboards of blue china, I suppose it was the contrast with our
own rather sordid surroundings, but it seemed to me like fairyland.
The hall is lovely, with a gallery all round and most exquisite
carving; rose-red velvet curtains, Persian rugs glowing with rich,
soft colours, and everywhere great silver bowls of flowers.
Pages:
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151